


All Things Go

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [102]
Category: American Football RPF, Glee, National Football League RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, American Football, Chicago Bears, Closeted Character, Drunk Driving, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobic Language, M/M, Medical Malpractice, Minor Character Death, NFL, NFL Draft, Sports-related Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, pregnancy loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 91,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graduation was supposed to be an end to all the waiting. Instead, it’s the start of another four-year stint of separation and uncertainty. Under the media's harsh examination and the weight of outside expectations, what will break first: their relationship or one of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Draft [April 28, 2016]

**Author's Note:**

> The downloadable playlist for this story cycle is available [here](http://storyof3boys.livejournal.com/116905.html).

Finn tells everybody that it’s the money, but it’s not the money, at least not the way people seem to think; it’s about not letting everybody down. Everybody wants him to enter the draft—Coach Meredith, Coach Clyde, Burt, his mom, his teammates—and nobody really has much to say against him entering it. He can tell Kurt and Puck aren’t thrilled about the idea, but they never tell him not to. They never say anything other than “You have to do what you think is best, Finn” and “You gotta decide for yourself.” Syd asks, “Are you sure about this, Finn?” He isn’t sure, but everyone else seems to be.

Whether or not he’s sure is no longer relevant, though, as he’s sitting in Radio City Music Hall in his pinstriped grey suit that Kurt picked out for him the previous summer. They’re all seated at large round tables stocked with water bottles, everybody dressed in nice clothes, and Audrey keeps climbing out of their mom’s lap to stand next to Finn, Kurt, or Puck and dance. 

“Audrey, you need to sit down,” Carole fusses. “We can find you a chair if you don’t want to sit in my lap.”

“I want to dance!” Audrey says. “I have a dancin’ dwess!”

“It’s a beautiful dress, Audrey,” Rachel says from the other side of Carole. “I’m sure everyone notices how pretty it is.”

“You sure do, honey, but it’s too crowded in here to dance,” Burt says to Audrey, ignoring Rachel’s response to her, then turning back towards Finn and Puck. “So I think the Titans oughta go with that wide receiver out of Oregon, what’s his name. Keleigh.”

“Really?” Kurt says, looking skeptical. “I’d think they’d want to snatch up Fannin. They could use a cornerback that actually makes a few interceptions instead of waving his arms in the air like ‘pick me, pick me!’”

Finn puts the back of his hand to his mouth to hide his smile at the look on Burt’s face. 

“Son, you been holding out on me?” Burt asks.

Kurt tilts his head. “What do you mean?” he says, a little too innocently. Burt doesn’t have a chance to do more than shake his head at Kurt before the room starts to get quiet because they’re about to announce the first draft pick. 

On the video feed, the NFL Commissioner walks across the stage, and he stops at the podium. “With the first pick of the 2016 draft, the Tennessee Titans choose T. J. Keleigh of the University of Oregon.”

“Now they just need a quarterback who can throw something to him,” Puck says as the table where Keleigh is stands up. Kurt sniffs, like he doesn’t approve of the Titans’ selection, but doesn’t say anything.

Rachel frowns, almost comically. “It’s too bad you didn’t go first, Finn.”

“Didn’t want to live in Tennessee anyway. Fannin’ll go next,” Finn says, and sure enough, Fannin does go next, to the Bengals. 

“I hope he likes animal prints,” Kurt says, glancing at the video feed of Fannin putting on a Bengals hat. 

Finn’s phone rings then, and he hesitates for a second before he puts it to his ear. “This is Finn Hudson.”

“Bill Armory, Bears GM. We think you’ll want to hear this next pick, Hudson,” the man says, sounding jovial. “And let me be the first to welcome you to the Bears family.”

“Thanks,” Finn says. “That’s great, yeah.”

“Finn, who is that?” Carole asks, her face lighting up. Rachel looks like she’s about to say something, but Finn waves one hand at her and Carole to get them to be quiet, because he can hear the NFL Commissioner talking again, and the Bears GM is still talking, and that’s like two too many people talking for Finn to follow along.

“I think it’s probably the Bears,” Kurt says to Carole, gesturing to the video feed screen and then to Finn.

The Bears GM finally wraps up with, “…so we’ll talk at length tomorrow morning, Hudson! Have fun celebrating tonight!” before hanging up.

The NFL Commissioner has the Bears logo behind him now, and he keeps talking. “With the third pick of the first round, the Chicago Bears select Finn Hudson, University of Wisconsin.”

“It was the Bears, Mom,” Finn says, setting his phone down and standing up. 

“I figured that out now!” Carole says, also standing up. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations, honey!” She almost elbows Puck out of the way to give Finn a hug. “What do you do now?”

“We pass him around like a trophy,” Puck answers her, “and then he goes and gets a baseball cap.”

“Which isn’t really appropriate to wear with a suit at any other time,” Kurt adds. 

“This is the last time, I swear,” Finn tells Kurt, still feeling a little dazed. 

“Promise?” Kurt asks, grabbing Finn and hugging him tightly. “I bet they think that kind of thing’s appropriate.”

“I’ll just tell ’em you said I’m not allowed to. They’ll understand,” Finn says, hugging Kurt back, then turning to Puck. “So, I’m a Bear!”

“Yeah, you are,” Puck says, putting his arms around Finn. “Guess you really did listen to me all these years.”

“Yeah, I guess so!” Finn says. There’s flashes from cameras all around him as he lets go of Puck and turns to give Burt a hug.

“I guess I can forgive you for not being a Brown,” Burt says, patting Finn on the back. 

“Good thing,” Finn says. “Or Christmas might be uncomfortable.”

“Finn! Finn! Me!” Audrey says, hopping up and down. Finn picks her up, and she gives him a big kiss on the end of his nose. Rachel steps around Carole and gives Finn a hug while he’s still holding Audrey. 

“This is so exciting, Finn!” Rachel says, and it probably makes a good photo, judging by the continued flashes.

“Are you supposed to go out on the stage now?” Carole asks, almost nervously.

“Yeah, I think so,” Finn says, handing Audrey off to Burt. “I’ll, uh… be right back, I guess!” Someone directs Finn to the curtain between the room with the tables and the room with the stage, and he accepts the Bears hat pressed into his hand without really looking at it. He puts the hat on his head and walks up the stairs and across the stage, where the Commissioner hugs him and gives him a Bears jersey with a big number eleven on it. 

Finn poses for pictures with the Commissioner, then walks back down the stage, where he sorta-kinda answers a few questions from the media and poses for a few more pictures, though at least that’s it for pictures until the Bears press conference and inevitable photo op with Rachel tomorrow. Only about five minutes or so have passed before Finn returns to the room with the tables, but it feels like it’s been an hour. Kurt and Puck are standing along the back wall, next to the table with all the extra water bottles, talking about something. Kurt’s chin is up, his face almost set, and he’s nodding with whatever Puck’s saying. 

"…waited three years, blue eyes. …four or five?" Puck's fist hits the wall. There's more words Finn can't make out. "He's still going to be a plane ride away. What do we fucking do now?"

Finn sighs and forces himself to keep the smile on his face. He knew the two of them weren’t happy about the draft, but they never said anything, never talked to him about. It’s true that he’ll still be a plane ride away, but it’s not forever. He can play for a few years, save up the money, and then come to New York and take care of all three of them. 

Kurt shakes his head and murmurs something to Puck and then pauses, his lips quirking upward. “Keep marchin’ on?” he says with a little more volume. 

Puck straightens and nods. “Yeah. I know. I know.” Puck picks up a water bottle. “Too bad he didn’t go at seven to the Jets. Think they set him free yet?”

Kurt looks up and around the room, then sees Finn and smiles. “There he is,” he says to Puck, and the two of them walk towards Finn.

“Hey, you guys,” Finn says, holding up his jersey. “They put an eleven on it and everything. I think the girls’ll be happy.”

Puck grins at him. “Yeah, there’ll probably be new T-shirts for them in a week.”

“Did you know that the Bears don’t have a cheerleading squad?” Kurt asks. “So you’re practically bringing them one.”

“Highest quality cheerleaders in the NFL,” Finn says. “I don’t think the Bears get to pick out their uniforms, though.”

“A fact that Syd will no doubt appreciate,” Puck says with a laugh. “I don’t think she would want anything like the girls wear in Dallas.”

“Finn!” Carole says from behind him. “Let’s see that jersey!”


	2. Working Class Hero is Something to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interviews, endorsements, articles, charities, and public appearances. [June 2016 - August 19, 2018]

> ## LAKE FOREST, Illinois
> 
> — The Bears new quarterback Finn Hudson will be ready to suit up at the beginning of training camp. 
> 
> The Heisman winner and No. 3 overall pick in the draft, coming from the University of Wisconsin, Hudson signed his contract today. While terms were not officially disclosed, a source with knowledge of the negotiations reports that the four-year deal is fully guaranteed and worth approximately $21.3 million, including a signing bonus of $13.5 million. The same source told the Tribune that the deal has no off-set language, which has become standard practice for most rookies who are drafted in the top ten or fifteen slots. The notable exception, of course, continues to be the Miami Dolphins, who pay slightly more per year as compensation. 
> 
> During mini-camp in May, head coach Hatty Wesson was full of praise for the Bears' top pick. "He's got a winning combination of athleticism and work ethic," Wesson said. "We're excited by his ability to move and work in the pocket, as well as the advantage his height gives him."
> 
> While Jay Cutler will most likely remain in the starting position, his propensity to suffer concussions following sacks has been marked in the past two seasons, and it seems probable that Hudson will see game time, even starting as many as half the games. 
> 
> With Hudson's contract complete, the Bears can turn to signing their other draft picks and focus on the approaching training camp. Preseason practices will begin on Wednesday, July 27, but the first practice that will be open to the public comes on Friday afternoon, July 29. 

  


While the guy with the headset attaches the microphone to Finn’s collar, Finn smiles at Helen, the _Windy City in the Morning_ anchor. “I really like your suit,” he tells her. 

“Oh, thank you!” she says, looking a little surprised. “You do?”

“Pretty sure they don’t make it my size though,” Finn jokes. “You think that’d be a good color on me?”

“I don’t have that much information on you, but I do have a note for the lighting crew that you only wear grey suits,” Helen says, laughing. “So probably not.”

“Grey suits are cooler,” Finn says. “Make me look like an art thief or something.”

“We’re ready to go live,” a voice says from off to the side of the soundstage. “Going live in 10.”

“See, now you’ve gotta stop trying to swap suits with me,” Finn says, grinning widely. “They’ll get it on camera.”

There’s still a little bit of a laugh in Helen’s voice when the same voice announces they’re live and Helen starts to speak. “Welcome back to Windy City in the Morning. I’m sitting here with the Chicago Bears’ rookie quarterback, Finn “Bluebird” Hudson, who started his first NFL game yesterday afternoon. So, tell me, Finn—may I call you Finn?—how did that feel?”

Finn shrugs. “First start, over fifty-thousand people in the stadium, and a few million people watching on TV? Yeah, no big deal,” he says, laughing. “No, it was awesome. A lot of pressure, because I didn’t want to screw it up, but it was an awesome experience. The team is great, they’re doing a great job of showing me the ropes.”

“And with yesterday’s win, the Bears are sitting at two and two. That must be have been especially nice, to start off with a win and even up the record?”

“Hey, who doesn’t like to win?” Finn asks. “Yeah, definitely a confidence booster.”

Helen smiles wider at that. “In addition to football, you’re known for being outspoken about causes that you care about, but I haven’t seen anyone ask you about the upcoming election. Is it safe to say that you have a favorite?”

“Am I allowed to say on the air?” Finn asks. He looks off camera and the guy with the headset who put the mic on Finn earlier gives him the thumbs up. “Ok, headset guy says I’m ok to go. Yeah, I definitely have a favorite.”

“And who is it?” Helen asks. 

“Well, I’ll be at the Clinton/Castro rally in two weeks, so you do the math,” Finn says. 

She laughs. “There you have it, Bears fans. I’m sure they’re happy to have your support, Finn.”

“Not sure Hillary’s a big football fan, but if so, maybe she’ll come out and watch a game some time, so we can call it even,” Finn says, grinning at Helen again. “We’re playing the Giants on November thirteenth, so Madame Future President, if you’re watching, I’ll save you a seat at the game in New York!”

> ## Famous Sports Figures Seen Out and About?
> 
> For a couple of years you could guarantee seeing a certain NFL quarterback at a couple of places in New York, while he was still playing NCAA. Always with his 'brothers', sometimes it seemed like the rumors were true and sometimes like they were just rumors, depending on the club. Haven't seen him around as much since the beard story started up. Guess he doesn't want to hang out in the same city as the beard!
> 
> [R13], they've moved their partying to Chicago, as you might expect, and there's never any doubt about whether the rumors are true or not, if you see them out here. The capital of Hungary is one of the best places to look, especially on a Sunday night with those drink specials. Some people try to snap pics but I've never seen any appear online with any clarity to them.

  


Budapest is just as crowded as Kurt’s come to expect, which provides the best anonymity Finn’s going to get. Kurt steps closer to Finn and Noah, his hand dragging along Finn’s arm. “Thirsty yet, darling?” 

“Thinking about getting a Jack and Coke,” Finn says. “Want me to get you something?”

“Surprise me,” Kurt says with a grin. “Baby?”

“Yeah, why not?” Noah says. 

“Be right back,” Finn says, leaning over to kiss Kurt on the side of his neck before walking towards the bar. Kurt watches him, leaning against Noah. 

“Nice view for me,” Noah says in Kurt’s ear, and Kurt giggles. 

“It’d be nicer if I stood up, but you’ll have to suffer!” Kurt responds, both of them still watching Finn. Kurt narrows his eyes when he sees someone to Finn’s left, staring at Finn and fumbling with his phone. “Uh-oh.”

“Picture-taker?” Noah asks. 

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt stares at the man for a few moments, until he’s certain he can find him again. “I’ll take care of it after Finn comes back with— hi, darling.”

Finn hands Kurt a glass with bright red liquid in it. “It’s called a Red Death. It has strawberry syrup in it.” He hands a martini glass to Noah. “And for Puck, a chocolate martini. I have to go back and grab my drink, guys. Be right back again!”

“Hopefully picture-taker didn’t get too good of a look at me,” Kurt muses, looking around and not seeing any undue attention on Finn. 

“Running off on me and flirting with other men again,” Noah says wryly, taking a sip of his drink. “I’d be worried, but I know you only use your powers for evil.”

Kurt giggles. “Exactly.” He drinks some of his own Red Death and then hands the glass to Noah with a kiss. “Wish me luck, baby.”

“Oh you don’t need luck,” Noah laughs. “But at least you can tell us a good story later.”

“Yes!” Kurt slips into the crowd and looks down at himself. He pulls off the vest and sticks one end in his back pocket, just in case the picture-taker noticed who was with Finn. It doesn’t take Kurt long to find the man, though, standing at the bar, and Kurt slips beside him with a wide grin. “Hi there!”

“Well, hi,” the picture-taker says. “Can I get you a drink, gorgeous?”

“Please,” Kurt responds, still smiling. “I’ll let you guess at what I like.”

“I think you look like the appletini type,” the picture-taker says. “Am I right?”

Kurt struggles not to roll his eyes. One of those. He keeps his smile plastered on and reminds himself it’s all acting experience, in a twisted way. “Green’s my favorite color.”

The picture-taker smiles. “Lucky guess, then.” He turns towards the bar and orders, and when the bartender walks away, he turns back to Kurt. “I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” Kurt repeats with a nod, trying to come up with his new fake name. “I’m, uh. Randy.” He’s already cycled through all the characters on _Queer as Folk_.

“Nice to meet you, Randy,” the picture-taker says, and when the bartender sets down the drinks, the picture-taker hands the appletini to Kurt. “You live around here?”

“No, I’m in town for a few days on business,” Kurt answers, taking a sip of the drink and trying not to wince. No one ever gets his tastes right, but then, he is presenting himself as an idiot named Randy. “First night in Chicago, I thought I’d try out the nightlife, see if I met anyone that could make my week more interesting.”

“Found anybody yet who fits that description?”

Kurt smiles coyly. “I think I might have. Want me to put my digits in your phone?” He carefully schools his expression to an almost sheepish one, like he can’t believe what he’s about to confess. “I left my phone at the hotel, so my boss couldn’t call.”

“Sure!” the picture-taker says, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out his phone, handing it to Kurt. “Wouldn’t want your boss to ruin your night.”

“Exactly!” Kurt flashes another smile at the picture-taker, whatever his name was, and looks over to the right enough for his interest to be averted while Kurt finds his photos and quickly deletes all of them with Finn in the frame. “There we go!” he says, exiting the photos and leaving the phone on the main screen. “Hopefully I’ll hear from you!” he chirps, then sets down the appletini and moves away from the bar as quickly as he can, slipping his vest back on once he thinks the picture-taker can’t see him. He finds Noah and Finn almost exactly where he left them, and reclaims his drink from Noah, taking a long sip. 

“I fucking hate appletinis.”

> ## Chicago’s Professional Athletes: Going Beyond Philanthropy
> 
> Many professional athletes are known for their philanthropy, in the form of large donations, and today's athletes often involve their fans in fundraising efforts as well, through online raffles with low ticket prices and extraordinary opportunities as the prize. Some of Chicago's own professional athletes make a point of volunteering their time on a regular basis, as well. Members of the White Sox, the Cubs, the Bulls, and the Bears all can be found around the Chicago community, lending a hand or a smile and making a difference. 
> 
> **Finn Hudson**
> 
> Better known as Bluebird, Hudson may not be a native Chicagoan, but he is a native Midwesterner. Born and raised in Ohio before attending the University of Wisconsin, Hudson spends most of his time and money on charitable projects located right here in the heart of Chicago rather than anything nationally. 
> 
> Within the first few months of his residence in Chicago, Hudson was present at the annual AIDS Run & Walk event. While he didn't run the race because of a game that afternoon, he signed autographs and posed for pictures for far longer than event organizers had anticipated. AIDS Foundation of Chicago reported an uptick in the fundraising last year, and this year, Hudson will be participating in the race himself, thanks to that weekend's Bears game falling on Monday night. 
> 
> Another organization that almost immediately saw hands-on time from Hudson is SAFETY Chicago, which works to bring an end to in-school violence. When asked what motivates him to make the twice-monthly commitment, Hudson commented on the importance of the program and similar ones in other cities. "Kids going to school in a stressful or dangerous environment can't learn as well. Improving school safety doesn't just keep them physically safer, it impacts their ability to learn." 
> 
> Finally, Hudson can often be seen at the Center on Halsted, Chicago’s—and the Midwest's—"most comprehensive community center" for the LGBTQ community. Many articles have detailed Hudson's close friendships with "the Elevens" as well as his brothers, leading him to be a strong advocate for the LGBTQ community. "We have a volunteer orientation offered each month, before someone can start to volunteer. I don't think most of us realized just who he was that day he arrived for the orientation," the Center's volunteer coordinator, Lindsay Connors, said. "It wasn't until the first day he showed up to help with our youth programs that I found out. One of the kids shouted out 'Bluebird' and he just smiled, almost sheepishly."
> 
> All of us in the Windy City look forward to seeing where Bluebird and the Bears go this season, and thank Finn Hudson for his strong investment in our community.

  


The bearskin rug surprises Finn, and when he sees it, he starts to laugh. “Is it real?” he asks the photographer’s assistant. 

“Yeah, as far as I know,” the assistant tells him. She smiles. “Why? Is it a problem?”

“My fiancée’s a vegan,” Finn explains. “She’s not going to be too happy.”

“It’s a photoshoot for _Out_. If I were her, I’d be more worried about what you’re wearing,” the assistant says, giving Finn a look up and down and shaking her head. “Priorities, I guess.”

“Yeah, they made me really shiny,” Finn agrees. It’s true, too. On top of the makeup and hair and everything else, he’s been polished to a high gloss and then sprayed with something even shinier, which is a strange experience. “I’m afraid I’m going to stick to the bear.”

“That’s why we’re doing the bear last,” the assistant explains. “I just wanted to walk you through everything so you’d be comfortable.”

Finn appreciates it, and he says as much, and then he starts being posed for shots. They start with him outside on some grass that’s supposed to look like a football field, wearing just a pair of front-lacing football pants—or football-style pants, at least, because they’re way tighter than his actual pants, even though they don’t have pads—and balancing his helmet on one hip. After that, Finn gets shunted back and forth between hair, makeup, clothing changes, and more poses.

He feels a little awkward at first, but after a little while, he relaxes into it and just lets them rearrange him however they need, turning or raising his arm or whatever as instructed. They talk to him, and he talks back, and he laughs a lot, and the whole experience is kind of fun. They do some shots in profile, some of him looking over his shoulder to get his tattoo in the picture, and then some with him lying on the bearskin rug, his hand behind his head.

When they’re done with all of that, the photographer asks Finn if he’s got a problem with nudity, or at least suggested nudity. Finn’s good with how he looks—he spends enough time working out, and he knows it pays off—so he says “Why not?” and that’s how he ends up posing with just a strategically-placed football. He’s got a feeling this shot isn’t actually making it into the magazine, but if nothing else, he can get a copy for Puck. Puck likes pictures.

Finn gets the email with the proofs about a week later, but he waits until he’s over at Kurt and Puck’s apartment to open it. 

“Time for the big reveal,” Finn tells them, setting up the iPad and opening the email. “Ready?”

Puck snorts and flops down beside him. “Sure. Guess we’ll have to mark the calendar and go buy a print copy.”

Kurt laughs. “We’re not too old for magazine pictures on our walls, are we?”

“Just don’t tell me if I look ridiculous,” Finn says. “It’s all out of my hands now. Bobby’s already signed off on them, so the ones with the ‘f’ in front of the file names are the ones going in.” Finn clicks on the first picture, which is the first one they shot out on the grass. It looks better than Finn expected, considering how shiny he felt at the time they were taking the pictures. 

“You know, I don’t think you could actually play football in those pants,” Puck says slowly, tilting his head. “Did you get to keep them?”

“Yeah, there wasn’t any room for pads. There was barely enough room for _me_ ,” Finn says. laughing. “I thought the fake grass stain on the one knee was pretty funny.”

“I’m just saying, you could wear those out sometime,” Puck says, grinning. “Maybe a pair without the fake grass stain, though.”

“I’ll ask around and see what I can do,” Finn promises, clicking through the next few shots until he gets to the one marked with the ‘f’ for that particular pose. “Ok, this is the one going in.”

“Hmm. I’m not so sure about this after all,” Kurt says seriously. “Do we really need that many people seeing you like this?”

“I think it’s too late. Next time you have to say no before they take the pictures,” Finn says. He clicks through the next few shots until he gets to next pose. None of those are marked with the ‘f’ that means they’re going into the magazine. “I guess they didn’t like these that much.”

“I suppose that means there are more exciting ones ahead,” Kurt says. “And at least we do get all of the pictures.”

Finn nods and keeps slowly clicking through until he gets to the shots done in profile. “These make me look smarter than I actually am,” he says. 

“Shut up, asshole,” Puck says, leaning his head against Finn’s shoulder. “If I don’t get to use the dumb look on you, you don’t get to pull that either.”

“Whatever, asshole. I look like I’m thinking about my Nobel Prize in these pictures.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna usher in world peace, see? Everyone’s going to look at you instead,” Puck says. “While they’re busy staring, Disney’ll take over everything. World peace. Everyone’ll just sing ‘It’s a Small World’.”

Kurt shudders. “Oh, that’s horrible. Can we skip the singing?”

Finn hums a few bars of ‘It’s a Small World’ and continues clicking through the pictures. “Ok, here’s the final one of those. I think it’s nicer in black and white.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “It’s good they aren’t all, though.”

The next shots are the ones with Finn looking over his shoulder. “Yeah, the tattoo wouldn’t look as good without the color,” he says. “These look like those glamor shots things that they used to have at the mall when we were little.”

Puck starts laughing. “Well, thank fuck they didn’t tease your bangs.”

“They offered me a wig, but I said Kurt would never forgive me,” Finn says.

“It’s true,” Kurt sniffs. “I wouldn’t have. If Lady Coco ever makes her debut, I expect to be present.”

“Pretty sure that would create some issues with Bears management,” Finn says, raising his eyebrows. “Ok, yeah. I like these. I look like I should ride a motorcycle or something.”

“No,” Kurt and Puck say together.

“It’s just that it sorta makes it look like I might have a bunch of other tattoos they didn’t show,” Finn argues. “I could be a biker. They should have had me pose on a motorcycle. That would’ve been so awesome, you guys.”

“It might have given you ideas,” Kurt says flatly. 

“I have all kinds of ideas. I invented a new flavor of jelly the other day,” Finn says.

“What kind?” Puck asks.

“Strawberry and butter. It would have swirls of butter already in it, so you don’t have to butter your toast and then put the jelly on. You could just put on one thing and it would have both.”

“Like the peanut butter and jelly stuff I never could get as a kid,” Puck says with a sigh. “But I’m not sure butter can sit in jelly.”

“They’d have to do something to it, like, chemically or whatever. That would make it survive the jelly and be easier to spread,” Finn explains. “I’d call it ButterBerry.”

“I’m going to stick with buttering my toast the usual way, I think,” Kurt says.

“Your loss,” Finn answers, shrugging. “Oh, hey, it’s the ones on the rug!” He clicks on the first bearskin rug picture. 

“Is that _real_?” Puck asks.

“Nah, they airbrushed the abs on,” Finn says.

“The bear, asshole!”

“Yeah, real dead bear. Awesome, right? Except the hair stuck to the shiny stuff and they had to wash me off after.”

“Oh, darling.” Kurt giggles. “We need video of Rachel’s face.”

“Good thing you didn’t have to stand up,” Puck says. “I think your pants would have fallen off.”

“Yeah, I think undoing the laces down the front was an artistic thing, not a practical thing,” Finn says. “And, uh. I did _not_ realize how much of my stomach that showed. I think they unlaced them a little too low.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It looks fine to me.” Kurt smirks. “Don’t you think so, baby?”

“Yep. Looks good to me,” Puck agrees.

Finn rolls his eyes and clicks through the next few shots until he gets to the one marked for publication. “I think they marked the wrong one! My tongue’s kinda sticking out in this one.”

“No, that’s perfect,” Puck says, laughing.

“Nah, I look like I wasn’t ready for them to take the picture!”

“Mmm, it’s good,” Kurt says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, the only question is whether they meant to turn it into a porn shoot,” Puck adds.

“Hey, it doesn’t— oh my god, it totally does,” Finn says. “It totally looks like the beginning of a scene in a porn. It’s porny! They took porny pictures of me!”

“Imagine that,” Kurt murmurs, shifting a little. 

Puck grins. “We should finish these now.”

The next batch of pictures don’t include one marked with an ‘f’, but there is one marked with ‘x’, whatever that means, and they’re all the shots of Finn posing with nothing but a football to keep him decent. 

“I guess they decided not to put any of these into the magazine,” Finn says.

“I think that might be a good decision on their part,” Puck says, looking intently at the iPad. 

Kurt nods. “I’d have to find every _Out_ subscriber and take that page from them.”

“So porny on a bearskin rug’s ok, but just a football isn’t?” Finn asks. “Your standards are all over the place, bossofme.”

“Why is there an ‘x’?” Kurt responds.

“I don’t know. Maybe it means not to use any of them at all?” Finn suggests. 

“Wise.” Kurt turns away from the iPad and raises an eyebrow. “Darling?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Kurt asks, tone very reasonable.

Finn grins. “I can’t think of any good reason.”

> ## Famous Future Alumni
> 
> One thing we at NYU pride ourselves on is the number of students who go on to find success in many varied fields. Some of our students come to us already well-known and successful, though! From actors who rose to prominence during childhood to a professional athlete, here are some of our students and alumni who have chosen NYU. 
> 
> […]
> 
> Many football fans may not realize that the Chicago Bears’ “Bluebird” Hudson also holds a degree in psychology from the University of Wisconsin. Fewer still know that during his senior year at Wisconsin, Hudson successfully applied for admission to NYU Steinhardt’s masters degree program in music therapy. While he’s in the NFL, his admission is deferred, Hudson says he’s still “looking forward to the day” he begins the program.

  


Finn buys four tickets to the Center on Halsted’s Oscars night event, and Finn thinks they’re the best looking group there. Kurt helped Rachel pick out the sparkly gold dress she’s wearing, and probably the shoes, too, and Finn finally gets to wear the new suit Kurt helped him get the last time he was in New York. Finn’s not totally sure what he thinks about Puck’s velvet tuxedo jacket, but the rest of Puck looks good and Kurt, of course, looks perfect like he always does. 

“I’m so glad Leonardo DiCaprio has one Oscar now, in case he doesn’t win tonight,” Rachel chirps. “And _Officer X_ is a favorite for Best Movie.”

“Zac Efron certainly has come far from his _High School Musical_ days,” Kurt says.

“Oh, shit, is that who that was?” Finn asks. “I didn’t even recognize him!”

“He didn’t break out into autotuned and overproduced bubblegum pop, so that’s understandable,” Puck says with a laugh.

“Remember that summer Hannah only wanted to watch those movies over and over and over again?” Finn asks. “I think that was the worst summer ever.”

“Oh, I always figured that was why you joined glee club,” Puck says with a grin. “You wanted to be just like the other guy. The one that started singing in the middle of baseball about not dancing.”

“I joined glee club because Schue found pot in my locker,” Finn says. “It wasn’t even mine.”

“All of my illusions are shattered,” Puck says, shaking his head. 

“Oh, Finn, you have the best stories!” Rachel laughs. 

“It’s totally true. All of this awesomeness,” Finn says, with a gesture that emcompasses himself, Kurt, Puck, and Rachel, “because of a little bag of someone else’s pot.”

Rachel shakes her head. “Isn’t he silly?” she says to Kurt. 

“Mmm,” Kurt replies, nodding a little and then rolling his eyes when Rachel looks away. “Well, shall we take a seat?”

“I want to bid on one of those silent auctions. One of them’s a lake cruise!” Finn says. “It’s actually a beer-tasting cruise. Isn’t that cool?”

“A beer-tasting cruise of the Great Lakes?” Puck says. “Yeah, that is. Stops at local breweries?”

“I think it loads up beers at each stop and then you do the beers for that region while you’re on that lake,” Finn says. “It goes from Montreal back to Chicago.”

“Didn’t you say you were donating something for the auction, Finn?” Rachel asks, clinging to Finn’s arm. 

“Just some signed stuff, football and a helmet,” Finn says, shrugging. “Nothing big.”

“Still, that’s so nice,” Rachel says, beaming up at him. Now that they’re getting closer to the big staged breakup, she’s been acting a little funny. Maybe she’s sad about the pretend dating being over, or maybe she’s just gotten really good at the acting. Either way, something’s felt strange the last couple of times he’s seen her. Maybe she’s met somebody she wants to real-date and she’s getting impatient; Finn could totally relate to that feeling. 

Sue, the center’s director, approaches them with her hand outstretched. “Finn! Thank you so much for coming out tonight.”

Finn takes her hand and shakes it. “It all looks great, Sue. This is my fiancée, Rachel, and my brothers, Kurt and Puck.”

“The famous brothers!” Sue exclaims, shaking Puck’s hand, then Kurt’s. “Nice to meet you after hearing so much about you. And Rachel, that’s a lovely dress. So nice to finally meet you.”

“We’ve heard a lot about the work you do as well,” Kurt replies. “Frankly, it’s amazing. I can’t imagine having a place like this while we were in high school.”

“We do what we can. So much rides on our volunteers and nights like tonight,” Sue says. 

“Every action counts,” Puck agrees. “No matter how small it seems at the time.”

“I’m going to win the cruise,” Finn declares. “That’s my goal for the evening.”

Sue laughs. “Good luck with that, then. Thank you all again for coming out. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go check the sound system!”

“See you a week from Thursday,” Finn says, as Sue hurries off. “Sue’s so nice.”

“She does seem lovely,” Rachel says, tugging Finn towards the silent auction tables. “Did you see these restaurant gift cards, Finn?”

“You can bid on anything you want, but I’m totally blowing all my money on the cruise,” Finn says. “I always wanted to ride on a boat across all the Great Lakes while drinking beer.”

Rachel frowns for a few seconds before her smile is back, plastered across her face. “Of course.”

After looking at the rest of the silent auctions, Finn directs them all towards their table, where he pulls out a seat for Rachel, winking at Kurt over her head. Kurt and Puck sit down too and Kurt smiles a little as he looks around. 

“At least here we don’t have to worry about anyone talking during the acceptance speeches, I would think. Remember the year we watched with Zachary?” Kurt says, and Puck laughs. 

“The only time I’m watching an awards show with Zachary is if it falls on a Thursday.”

> ## Bluebird’s Return Uncertain
> 
> Will the Bears’ Finn Hudson be returning to the field for the 2019 season? With the end of the 2018 season in sight, the Bears' front office has still not released a statement about Hudson's status for next year. Hudson has one year remaining on his contract. The Bears have not been forthcoming about the exact nature of Hudson’s injury, what recovery time can be expected, or if full recovery is on the horizon. Fans of Bluebird eagerly await an update from the franchise.

  


Kurt knows he’s mostly powered by coffee at this point; the four or so hours of sleep he got were not in one go, and part of the time he ‘should’ have been sleeping was spent researching Finn’s injury and what they might be told this morning. The doctor is standing at the bottom of the bed, and Noah’s right; it feels like a standoff. Kurt, Noah, and Syd on Finn’s right side, and Rachel, Carole, and Burt on Finn’s left. Syd has Finn’s good hand in hers, and Kurt has to fight not to smirk at the look on Rachel’s face every time she glances at Syd. 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want the surgery,” Finn says yet again. “I didn’t want it the last time you asked or the time before that or yesterday.”

“Finn, you have to really think about what this means,” Carole says, wringing her hands dramatically. Kurt’s almost grudgingly impressed. “The doctor says if you don’t have the surgery, you won’t play again!”

“Yeah, and if I have the surgery, that's months more recovery time tacked onto the months it’s already going to take,” Finn counters. “And there’s still no guarantee I’d be good to play again. I know what I want. I can make decisions for myself.”

“Kurt, can you talk some sense into your brother?” Carole says, now staring at Kurt. “You can authorize the surgery. I’m sure in just a few days, Finn, you’d be glad for it. Kurt, he’s probably still out of it from the pain medication.”

“I’m not out of it!” Finn snaps. “I didn’t take the pills last time, because I wanted to make sure I could tell them that _no_ , I don’t want the surgery.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at Carole. “Frankly, Carole, I’m appalled that you would insinuate Finn doesn’t understand the decision that he’s making. I am _not_ going to authorize something over Finn’s express wishes. Even if he _were_ medicated, I’m not convinced that’s the best course of action.” He inclines his head towards the doctor, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but in that room. 

“It’s true that the surgery isn’t a magic bullet. We can’t make any guarantees about Mr. Hudson’s career,” the doctor says, shifting in place uncomfortably and looking down at the chart in his hand. 

Kurt looks back at Carole, Rachel, and Burt. “See? There are no guarantees.” He looks at Finn and softens his voice. “Finn, do you want them to get you information on a referral in Chicago and New York? And information on physical therapy?”

“Yes,” Finn says. “I want that. That’s what I want. And since everybody here knows I’m not signing any forms for surgery and I’m not getting any surgery, I’ll take the pain meds now.”

Kurt looks at the doctor inquiringly while Noah hits the call button for the nurse. The doctor nods and looks relieved at the excuse to leave the room.

“I’ll go look for that for you and someone will come back in and explain everything,” the doctor says, before walking quickly out of the room.

“Kurt!” Carole looks angry now, an expression mirrored on Rachel’s face. “I can’t believe you would let him throw his life away like that!”

“His _life_?” Kurt asks incredulously. “Carole, are you completely stupid?”

“Kurt,” Burt breaks in. “Can I see you out in the hall?”

“Certainly,” Kurt says, his tone clipped. “We’ll be back, Finn. Get some rest.” Kurt squeezes Finn’s forearm and then Noah’s hand before walking to the door, holding it open with an eyebrow raised at Burt. Burt marches through the door with a scowl on his face, turning to face Kurt once he’s in the hallway. “Yes?” Kurt says, letting the door shut completely.

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing in there?” Burt blurts, voice raised. “Being rude to Carole, encouraging your brother to make this crazy decision? Why are you doing this?”

“She just compared his football career to his life,” Kurt says flatly. “I’m quite sure they are not the same thing.”

“Finn loves playing football. It’s been his life for the last decade!”

Kurt laughs, high and brittle. “When are the two of you going to wake up and see what’s right in front of you? Let me guess. You’re certain that next year, Finn would sign another contract with the Bears?”

“Of course he would,” Burt insists. “Finn’s not going to walk away from his career like that. I don’t know what you and Noah told him about this surgery, but I think you two need to start deferring to the doctors about this stuff.”

“You know nothing,” Kurt says dismissively. “You two tugged him and pushed him into the draft, and now you’re all determined to make him into exactly what you want. I may not always succeed, but at least I _try_ not to do that. When is the last time either of you actually asked Finn what he wants? And didn’t dismiss it? Back in high school, he didn’t know what he wanted. What did you use when he told you he had doubts about the draft? Or did he even dare to mention anything to you that wasn’t your plan? You _lied_ to him, Dad! You told him that you and Carole couldn’t help with _any_ of his grad school tuition! You didn’t pay for any of his undergraduate tuition, but you did for me for four years! Isn’t he at least due the same amount that I got?”

“Not when he was sitting on the ability to pay for it and everything else he could ever need,” Burt counters. “He’s got a talent and if someone wants to pay him to use it, he should’ve been jumping at the opportunity, not hemming and hawing over it, and then expecting his mother and I to pay for things. Graduate school’s expensive, and it’ll always be there. His shot at playing pro had a shelf life!”

“So you really did lie to him,” Kurt whispers. “You know, I always told Noah that maybe we were confused. Maybe we understood everything wrong. But instead you put him in a corner so you could have a son in the fucking NFL.” Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. “You boxed him in and decided he only had one purpose.”

“He was being selfish,” Burt says. “And he’s being selfish now, throwing away his career because he’s scared of surgery. What about Rachel? This money could have supported them both for the rest of their lives.”

“Oh, god, yes, what about poor Rachel?” Kurt says, not able to keep back the bitter tone as he rolls his eyes. “Are we in the 1950s, Dad? Should I buy Rachel an apron for Hanukkah?”

“Now, that is uncalled for!” Burt retorts, raising his voice even more. “You know better than anybody that acting’s not always a reliable prospect, and they’re gonna want to have kids, that’ll put her out for a while, plus the cost of raising kids in New York’s gotta be astronomical!”

“Wow, Dad, you have Finn’s entire life planned for him! Did you think to even ask what he wanted, or is this just ‘Burt and Carole’s dream son’? Because I sure as hell know _I_ am not that.”

“Kurt, how can you say that?” Burt asks. “You are my son, I’m always going to love you best. And Rachel was telling us they’ve been talking about kids. You know how Finn is with babies.”

“Yes, I know.” Kurt can feel his fists clench. Babies, the one thing they can’t give him and also the one thing Kurt and Noah know they won’t necessarily have. Not with their own financial prospects. They know much better than Burt the cost of raising kids, or at least a teenager, in New York. “Best isn’t ‘dream son’, Dad. But I wish the two of you would stop assuming you know what Finn wants.”

“Oh, but _you_ know? The one that Finn gives the power of attorney over his own wife,” Burt counters. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I am sure that it wasn’t the best decision, especially since you seem pretty set on keeping him from being able to play again. What’s your motivation here, Kurt? I’ve never once heard Finn complain that he was unhappy with anything in his life, so why do you think you should get to decide for him that he’s unhappy?”

“Because you don’t _listen_ to him and I do!” Kurt snaps, leaning forward. “Even if Finn told you that he wanted to kill himself rather than play another game, you’d be convinced someone put him up to it or he was confused! I had no idea I had power of attorney until Syd got here yesterday, so I’m thinking that maybe Finn gave it to me _because_ I know what he wants.”

Burt seems on the verge of saying something else, but comes up short. “So you really didn’t know he’d done that?”

“No!” Kurt shakes his head. “Noah and I were on the verge of getting assaulted, actually, when Syd arrived.”

“Assaulted? By who?”

“Funny, that same Bears team that you said was taking such good care of everyone had a representative here who seemed to want to punch me.” Kurt smiles with no humor. “Some of the Bears like the Elevens and Finn’s brothers, and some of them, well— don’t.”

“Did he lay a hand on you? Because I swear to god, Kurt, I will have his ass arrested and I will sue the entire Bears franchise if he so much as touched you,” Burt says. 

“No. Just shook his finger in my face. Then Syd arrived and we kicked him out.” Kurt purses his lips. “Actually, I should ask if he’s tried to get back in. It seems odd that he would have given up so easily.”

“Get his name. I’ll make sure to have a word with him _and_ anybody over him in the organization,” Burt says, glowering. “I thought the Bears were happy with you and Noah and Finn all being so close.”

“There’s a vast difference between the front office and the people on the ground,” Kurt settles for, because he does not want to even skirt near the issue of rumors. “So, no. I did not know. The Bears did not know, and Rachel did not know. It appears Syd was the only one who did. Do you want to accuse Syd of unduly influencing Finn, too?”

“I’ve never gotten the feeling that Syd really cared much for Rachel,” Burt says, “but I can’t see her trying to undermine Rachel, at least not legally.”

Kurt does resist the urge to roll his eyes this time. “To answer your other objection, anything Noah and I said to Finn was taken directly from what he could look up himself online. Reputable medical sites.”

“I’m afraid that once some time has passed and he’s not in so much pain, he’s really gonna regret not getting that surgery,” Burt says, trying to sound practical now. “Can you try to get him to reconsider?”

“What is the advantage to getting the surgery, Dad? What is the advantage to it that you know that even the doctor can’t be certain about?”

“At least it gives him a chance to play again,” Burt says. “It doesn’t end his career at twenty-four.”

“That’s your thesis. Okay. So why do you think he doesn’t want the surgery? If he’s really so happy with football and it’s his ‘entire life’, then why wouldn’t he do anything possible to ensure he keeps playing?”

“I think he’s scared of the surgery. I can understand, you know, but I think he’s making the decision because he’s scared.”

“There isn’t any pain I wouldn’t endure for the things and people I love. I don’t think Finn’s any different,” Kurt says. “Someone whose entire life is football doesn’t shy away from surgery because they’re scared, Dad. Finn’s not scared. He just _doesn’t want the surgery_. It’s his decision. Not yours. Is this about him, Dad, or about you and Carole?”

Burt sighs. “I think it’s a bad decision and I think he’ll regret it one day, but you’re right. It’s his decision to make. Doesn’t mean I have to think it’s a good one.”

“It does mean you and Carole can’t be trying to put guilt on him for it,” Kurt says. “Thank god they were bringing the meds to him now.” He shakes his head. “You know, he always said at Wisconsin that it was his job. He worked out and practiced so he could play, so he could go to school. Just like Noah worked at Starbucks or I worked at the shop. But you still helped Noah and I out. It was never Finn’s job to make sure you didn’t have to help him at all. And it was certainly never his job to help the two of you.”

“His mom took care of him all by herself for seventeen years,” Burt says. “It wouldn’t hurt him to show a little gratitude. Some of those players buy cars and houses for their moms.”

“So gratitude is determined by material things.” Kurt smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, then, Dad. You’ll never know that I’m grateful, since I’ll never buy you a car or a house.” The smile fades and he can feel his face harden. “Finn’s only obligation is to make smart financial decisions with the money he’s earning.”

“Well, I hope he’s been smart with it, because that’s an early end to a career,” Burt says. “I wish you wouldn’t try to compare your situation and Finn’s, though, Kurt. You know it’s different. It’s a different relationship, a different profession. I know you’re grateful. You’ve always been a good kid.”

“Dad, he was never planning to play more than four years. The contract’s fully guaranteed. It’s exactly the same amount of money.” Kurt sighs. “I’m not stupid, Dad. Neither is Finn.”

“I guess we’ll never know now how long he could have played,” Burt says. “Hope all of you are happy about that.” He shakes his head. “He loved playing football.”

Kurt closes his eyes. “Still not listening,” he whispers under his breath. “I’m going back inside,” he says, raising his voice. “We don’t have that many hours before our flight, which we can’t move.”

Burt nods. “Alright. I’m through talking about it. I’m sorry we’re coming down on opposite sides of this, son. I hate it.”

Maybe they have to. Kurt nods a little, walking back to the door and opening it. When Kurt prioritizes the people in his life, his dad has shifted downward, and while Burt won’t admit it, Kurt knows that he’s right. Finn is the dream son, and now Burt and Carole are having to watch their dream die.


	3. How It Feels to Take a Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem that nobody calls a problem. [December 2016 - July 2017]

The party runs later than Finn expected, and he’s sure he’s fine to drive by the time he makes his goodbyes and goes out to his truck. Once he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, it occurs to him that maybe this isn’t the best plan. He should call a cab and come back to pick up his truck in the morning. 

Finn’s flight to New York is in the morning, though, and it leaves early. He needs to get back to the apartment and pack, and he doesn’t need to worry about finding the time to get back to the truck in the morning. He doesn’t want to risk missing the flight, or having to explain why he missed it. Finn resolves to drive slowly and very carefully. He didn’t have that much to drink, comparatively. He didn't drink enough to forget there's a ring for a fake proposal in his pocket. He’ll be just fine.

And he is just fine, until he’s about six blocks from his apartment and his rearview mirror is lit up by blue flashing lights. He slowly pulls over to the side, muttering, “Shit. Shit. _Shit_.” When the officer approaches the window, Finn lowers it, then puts his hands on the steering wheel. 

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks.

“No, sir,” Finn says. He tries to keep his smile, his voice, and his hands all steady.

“You were weaving. Have you been drinking tonight?”

“I had a little bit to drink at a party, but that was a few hours ago,” Finn says. It was more than a little, and less than a few hours ago, but maybe he can make it through this stop and get back to the apartment.

“License and registration, please,” the officer says. Finn reaches for his wallet and fishes out his license, which he hands to the officer to look at while Finn looks for the registration in the glovebox. Right as Finn is leaning back up with the registration, the officer says, “Finn Hudson. _Bluebird_ Hudson.”

Finn mentally chants _shit shit shit_ before answers, “Yeah. That’s me.” Shit. 

“I’m a big fan of yours,” the officer says. He turns the license over and over in his hand, like he’s studying it or thinking about it. “We got family in Madison. My wife, that’s where she went to school. My oldest is finishing up his senior year at UW.”

“Oh, yeah?” Finn asks. “That’s great. It’s a great school.”

“My son, he’s really into football. Played in high school, but not really college ball material, you know? Been following your career since he started at Wisconsin. Went to all the home games, even traveled to a couple away,” the officer says, almost extending the hand with Finn’s license. Almost, but not quite. “He was over the moon when the Bears drafted you. I took him to a game when he was home for a four-day weekend back in October. Lions. You played really well.”

“Thanks,” Finn says. He resists the urge to reach for the license. “Yeah, that was a good game. It was really good.” 

“It would break his heart if he found out I was the guy who popped Bluebird Hudson for DUI,” the officer says flatly. “So you want to tell me how much you really had to drink?”

“Shit,” Finn says quietly.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” the officer says. He holds the license out to Finn. “So here’s what’s going to happen, because it’s Christmas, you don’t have any priors, and I’m not keen on being the bad guy with my kid all holiday break.”

Finn nods and takes his license, not saying anything.

“You’re going to park this truck right up there,” the officer says, gesturing to a spot along the road. “You’re going to call a cab. I’m going to sit here and make sure you get into it. You can come back and get the truck when you’ve sobered up. Next time you’re out at a party and tie one on, you’re going to call a cab. You do all of that, and I’m not going to issue a field sobriety test. Do you understand everything I’m saying to you, Bluebird?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, sir,” Finn says, nodding his head. “Shit. Thank you. Shit, I’m so sorry. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“This is your one pass,” the officer says. “Far as I know, I’m the only Badgers fan around here, and whatever your extracurriculars are, that’s your business as far as I’m concerned, but there’s a couple guys I think might even go out of their way to find something on you, if you get what I’m saying.”

Finn nods, trying to keep it as noncommittal as he can. He knows exactly what ‘extracurriculars’ the officer is talking about, but he’s not confirming anything. He’s not denying anything, but he’s sure as hell not confirming. He takes the keys out of the ignition and pockets them, reaching for his phone to call a taxi.

“Look,” the officer says. “From everything that’s reported on you, you seem like a really nice, decent sorta guy. You can’t pull shit like this. You got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Finn says. “I got it. Thank you. It won’t happen again. I swear it won’t happen again.”

 

It doesn’t happen again for another six—almost seven—months, just a week back in Chicago after his summer in New York, and Finn is in the middle of a bar and he and Puck are screaming at each other through the phone. 

“Yeah, and you’ve made it abundantly clear where _your_ priorities are!” Puck yells.

“You have no fucking _clue_ what my priorities are!” Finn shouts back, walking towards the door of the bar. People turn to stare at him as he shoves past them, and maybe that’s a bad idea and he’ll end up seeing it online tomorrow or the next day, but fuck them. Fuck them, fuck Puck, fuck this whole fucking city. “Guess it’s real easy to sit and tell me how my life works from all the way in New York, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. You’re not exactly hard to figure out when I’ve known you for seventeen fucking years, you know. Not all that much different between you and—”

“Oh, yeah, my whole fucking life, it’s always been about the money!” Finn yells, stumbling out into the parking lot. He’s louder than he means to be, even, but he’s also drunker than he should have been to take this call, so that since that ship has sailed, why not this one? “You know me so fucking well.”

“Funny, you weren’t complaining how well I know you _last_ week. Put us back out of the way so you can get your fucking Benjamins. Hard fucking life you’ve got there, Finn.”

“Fuck you!” Finn screams. “Just _fuck you_. You don’t know _shit_ about my life.” With that, he ends the call, shoving the phone into his pocket. “Shit!” A couple walking into the bar turns to look at him, and he can see them whispering to each other, so he makes himself stand up straight and walk to his truck. He shouldn’t be driving. He knows he shouldn’t be driving. _Fuck_ that he shouldn’t be driving, because he’s not waiting fifteen minutes for a fucking cab.

Finn climbs into the truck and slams the door behind him, cranking the engine and peeling out of the parking lot too fast. He’s pissed, he’s drunk, and he’s driving too fast, and though he’s aware enough that it’s a bad idea, he can’t find it in his heart to give a shit. He gets turned around on the drive, though, and ends up on some unfamiliar, dimly lit road. The phone starts to ring and he reaches into his pocket to silence it, taking his eyes off the road for just a second.

A second is all it takes, and Finn feels, but doesn’t see, the collision. Finn is flung forward, and his forehead smacks into the steering wheel hard enough that his field of vision turns red, then grey, then black. He’s only out for a little while, minutes at most, but when he opens his eyes, blood’s running down his forehead and he has to reorient himself to what’s going on. He’s drunk. He hit something. He’s bleeding.

“Shit,” Finn mumbles. He pushes the truck’s door open. It gives way with a loud creak, the metal around the hinges grinding. Finn tries to get out of the truck, but he’s still buckled in. He’s leaning out of the truck when he unfastens the seatbelt, so the sudden loss of tension in the belt sends him out of the door onto the ground, where he lands on his hands and knees, skinning both. 

It’s several unsteady minutes of his vision swimming and rolling nausea passing over him before Finn pulls himself to his feet. He’s not sure exactly where he is; it’s not an area he normally drives in. The front of his truck is completely caved in, half-wrapped around a brick pillar with metal fencing protruding from one side. The windshield is shattered, and only then does Finn realize his clothes and hair are full of glass. 

“Shit,” Finn repeats. Something touches his cheek, tickling it, and Finn puts his hand to his face. When he takes it away, he sees it’s blood running from the gash in his forehead. “Shit. Oh, shit.”

He waits for sirens and flashing lights, but they don’t come, and then he waits to see if _anybody_ will come. Leaning one hand against the truck, Finn looks up and down the street, which mostly seems to be fronted by a warehouse on one side, abandoned brickfront houses on the other, boards over the windows. He’s not even sure exactly where in Chicago he’s ended up. 

The truck is totaled. There’s no way Finn can drive it. He pulls out his phone and scrolls to the number for ‘taxi’ that he programmed in after his stop at Christmas. He has to squint to make the street signs stop moving long enough to give the cross street information to the taxi company, and when he’s done with that, he leans against the truck and waits.

When the taxi comes, the driver takes one look at Finn and asks if he needs to go to the hospital. “No, just home,” Finn tells the driver. He can’t go into a hospital right now, that much he knows. He’ll go home, wash his face, put some butterfly tape on the cut, and then sleep it off. That’s exactly what he does.

In the morning, Finn calls his doctor to make an appointment to come in early afternoon to get his head looked at. The cut is pretty deep. The next phone call he makes is to a tow company; he tells them where the truck is, to the best of his ability, and tells them to go ahead and total it. The next thing he does it take a taxi to the closest dealership, where he walks in and buys a fully-loaded, top-of-the-line Toyota truck, paying for it outright and driving it off the lot in the direction of the doctor’s office.

He tells everyone the old truck finally died on him, that it wasn’t worth fixing up anymore. When he calls Puck later that day to apologize for the fight he remembers having, even if he can’t remember all the details, he tells Puck that’s why he bought the new truck. Finn can hear it in Puck’s voice that he doesn’t believe him, but Puck doesn’t call him on it, and he lets Finn apologize for the fight the night before. 

After he ends the call with Puck, he drives to the tow place, where he gets all the items the tow guy retrieved from the totaled truck. He slips them a few extra hundred bucks to not remember he was ever there. Now there’s nobody who really knows what happened to Finn’s truck, and that’s the way Finn’s going to keep it.


	4. The Universe is Standing Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few moments, one call, and everything is different. [May 17-22, 2017]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains minor character death.**

Kurt finishes tightening the lugnuts and stands up, wiping his hands on a nearby rag and then wrapping his fingers around his coffee mug. It may be May, but it’s cold this year, and the sun hasn’t come up quite enough to make any difference inside the garage, anyway. 

Kurt looks at the board, trying to decide which job to tackle next, when his phone rings. He pulls out his phone and frowns at the listed name. Why is Carole calling him just past 8 am on a Wednesday morning? He sighs. They took their last exam just two days ago, and he’s not really caught up on sleep, which is their major goal for the summer. That, and deciding if they’re deferring the second year of grad school or not. 

“Hello?”

“Kurt,” Carole sniffles, and Kurt can feel his heart plummet. He leans on the table nearby and his breathing speeds up. 

“Is it Finn?” he blurts.

“What? No, sweetie, it’s not your brother. It’s—”

“Audrey? Dad?” Kurt closes his eyes and waits for the onslaught, unsure what will come next. 

“No, Kurt, it. It’s Rina.”

Kurt slides down the wall and sits with his back against it. “Rina?”

“I heard them talking about ‘Puckerman’ when I walked through the ER this morning,” Carole continues, and now he can hear the tears in her voice. “There’s only two Puckermans in Lima, so I stopped and.” She takes a deep breath. “She was listed as an MVA,” Carole says, and Kurt has to translate it quickly in his head. MVA, motor vehicle accident, car accident. “But it appears that she had a blood clot, and when she passed out, that caused the accident. She probably never even realized what was happening. Her chart, well. She was gone before the ambulance even arrived, Kurt,” Carole finishes sadly. 

“Okay,” Kurt says, already scrambling to his feet. “Okay. I’ll go to talk to my boss, and then I’ll go get Noah.”

“I was going to head over to Liberty,” Carole begins, but Kurt interrupts her.

“No. No, Carole. You give her the rest of the day. We’re on our way, and we’ll tell her,” Kurt says fiercely, because he can’t think of anything but Noah being the one to tell Hannah. “We’ll be there. Noah or I will call Nana. I’ll call Finn. Can you… can you call the synagogue?” he concludes, because he can tell Carole wants to do _something_. 

“Of course. And we’ll host anything that needs to be hosted, of course. I have her personal effects.”

“Okay. I’ll text you or Dad our flight details. Thanks, Carole.” Without waiting for a response, Kurt ends the call, walking into the office. “Noah’s mom died this morning.”

“Go,” his boss nods. “You’ll let me know when you’ll be back?”

“Let’s say Monday, and I’ll let you know if that changes?” Kurt answers, already heading for the door. 

He needs to call Finn, but first they need a flight, and as he walks down the street, he calls up PlaneFinder. “New York, all,” he mutters. “Ohio, any… no, Toledo, if Finn drives, he can pick us up.”

Kurt is of course encouraged to take a cheaper flight with stops, or to put off his trip for another two or three days, but he finds a non-stop flight from LaGuardia that leaves in two hours, more or less, and he buys two tickets as he walks down the street. Even then, they’re going to have to drive straight to Liberty to catch Hannah before she gets on the bus. 

That done, Kurt takes a deep breath and calls Finn. The first time he calls, it rings five times and goes to voicemail, and Kurt sighs. He calls a second time, and this time it rings four times before Finn picks up. 

“’Lo?” Finn’s voice is gravelly; he’s most likely hungover. Again.

“Can you meet us at the airport in Toledo in four and half, five hours?” Kurt asks without preamble. 

“What? Kurt, what— oh, fuck. Is it Burt?” Finn sounds wide awake now. “Kurt, what happened?”

“No, it’s not Dad,” Kurt assures him. “It’s— it’s Rina.”

“Oh, fuck,” Finn mutters. “Puck’s… you’ve got him, right? He’s not by himself?” Kurt can hear drawers slamming and other sounds that indicate Finn is getting dressed. 

“I’m heading towards Starbucks, Carole called me about five minutes ago. Hannah’s at school, I told Carole to try to get them to wait until we got there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ok, just. Let me toss some shit into a bag. I’ll be out the door in five or ten.” There’s more slamming and rustling, then Finn adds, “Tell him I love him, ok?”

“I will. It’s flight 2247. Drive safely, and grab yourself some coffee, darling.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a few hours. Fuck, Kurt. I’m so sorry.” 

“See you then,” Kurt responds, then adds, softly. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, ok? I love you guys.”

“Okay, I’m at Starbucks. Bye, Finn.” Kurt ends the call and slides it back into his pocket, taking a deep breath before he pushes the door open. 

 

Noah looks up automatically when the door opens, then frowns when Kurt’s the one to walk in the door. “K? What’s wrong?” Kurt doesn’t leave work in the middle of a shift, and even if he were prone to that, the look on his face is clearly devastated.

“Noah,” Kurt says, shaking his head a little and walking up to the gap in the counter, waiting for Noah to meet him there. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Noah stops in front of Kurt, shaking his head. “Blue eyes?”

Kurt pulls Noah towards him and starts whispering in his ear. “Carole called, Noah, it’s your mom, I’m sorry, we have to tell Hannah, so sorry.”

What Kurt means doesn’t hit at first. Carole calling makes his mind go to Finn, but it’s not Finn, and if Rina’s sick, then. No. Not sick, because they have to tell Hannah. Oh, _fuck_ , they have to tell Hannah. 

And that is his first thought, and his second, and his third. It takes longer for it to really hit him that _his mom is dead_. Noah’s felt like an adult for so long now that he doesn’t think of her having any active parenting role, but she’s his _only_ parent and now, suddenly, she’s just gone.

“How?” Noah manages to ask. 

“Blood clot,” Kurt mumbles. “We have tickets on a flight out of LaGuardia in a couple of hours. I told Carole not to do anything about Hannah yet. Finn’s meeting us at the airport in Toledo.”

Noah exhales. “Okay, I’ll… call someone. It may take thirty minutes. Can you…?”

“I’ll go home and pack and meet you here,” Kurt agrees, and the next thirty minutes pass in a blur of calling the store manager, calling one of the assistant shift managers, and then almost as an afterthought, sending a quick message to V2, asking if she can go by and feed Ennis for a few days. 

It’s easier to focus on that. 

When Kurt returns, though, with Noah’s backpack, his own bag, and two carry-ons, it’s all very real, and Noah heads out onto the sidewalk as Kurt hails a cab. 

The friendly cabbie they had encountered their first night in New York, back during senior year of high school, had been an anomaly, but for some reason, they get an overly-involved cabbie this morning, too. 

“Where to?”

“LaGuardia,” Kurt answers crisply. “Extra if we get there quickly.”

“Late for your flight?”

“Last-minute booking.” Kurt sounds almost impatient, and the cabbie stops at a light and actually looks at them for a minute.

“Ah,” he finally says, and Noah thinks that maybe he can see something on their faces, and he doesn’t ask any further questions. 

Noah feels like he’s in a daze as they check in at LaGuardia, rush through security, and board the plane. It’s probably a bad sign that it’s not until they’re seated on the plane and the flight attendant walks past that Kurt thinks to get a bottle of water, handing Noah a Xanax to go with it. “Sorry, baby,” Kurt whispers, waiting until Noah’s swallowed the pill and half the fucking bottle of water to pull Noah’s head onto his chest. “Should’ve thought of it already.”

“S’okay,” Noah answers. “Not exactly normal circumstances.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. “They’re not.”

 

Noah closes his eyes before they even take off, and Kurt pulls out his phone, thankful for the ability to place calls and send messages even at cruising altitude. He'll be able to do almost everything on the plane, while Noah sleeps. His first job is the hardest, though; he's got to call Nana and tell her that her daughter is dead. 

"Hello?" Nana answers after three rings. "Kurt? My phone says this is Kurt."

"It is, Nana," Kurt says, trying to sound warm. "It's Kurt. How are you?"

"I'm good, Kurt, but something tells me I'm not going to be after you keep talking."

Kurt tries to laugh, though it comes out sounding like a choked sob. "Oh, Nana. Noah always says you're the original badass."

"Does he now?"

"I need you to be a badass, okay?" Kurt says, wiping a stray tear from his left eye. "Noah and Hannah need you to be that badass, just for a few days, at least."

"Oh, Kurt," Nana says softly. "Kurt, is it my Rina?"

"It is," Kurt says softly. "I'm so sorry, Nana. Carole called me this morning. It— it was a blood clot. She probably never—"

"Probably didn't know," Nana finishes, her voice sounding years older. "Oh, Kurt. You're on your way to Ohio?"

"We're on the plane now," Kurt says. "Finn's picking us up in Toledo and then we'll head straight to Hannah's school. Carole was going to call the synagogue for us. I'll talk to her again next, I guess. She and Dad said they would host anything."

"Thank you," Nana says sadly. "Yes, it's good that the three of you tell Hannah." There's something in Nana's voice that almost makes Kurt ask her what she knows, but he doesn't, letting the moment slide past. "I'm sure the synagogue will tell Carole that for the past several years, they've been doing a small Jewish burial within a day, and then a larger memorial service on the following Sunday. Just let me know the time for both, please?"

"Of course. I— I'm so sorry, Nana."

"Oh, Kurt. I know. Noah's sleeping?"

"Yes, he took— well, he's asleep."

"He took something?" Nana asks, suddenly sharp, and Kurt shakes his head ruefully. 

"He has anxiety— generalized anxiety disorder, Nana. He took one of his Xanax. That's all."

"Ohh." Kurt can almost see her nodding. "Good, good. I'll see you this evening or in the morning, Kurt. Take good care of my grandchildren – not that you need the reminder."

"I always do, Nana," Kurt says softly, ending the call and taking a deep breath. One call down, possibly the hardest, but now he has to deal with the details. He pulls out his iPad, creates a new note, and then dials Carole. 

"Kurt. Good." Carole sounds a little out of breath. "I've already talked to the synagogue twice. They said something about two services?"

"The burial tomorrow and the memorial service on Sunday?" Kurt says. "Yes. Just let me know the times for both."

"Right, right." Carole reads off the times and a few other details before taking another deep breath. "Would you like me to get some clothes and things for Hannah? She can stay here, in Audrey's room, and you boys—"

"We'll get a hotel room," Kurt interrupts softly. "Let Hannah take the guest room."

"Are you sure? Let me at least make the reservation."

"No, it's all keeping me busy," Kurt insists. "Noah's asleep."

"If you're sure." Carole sighs. "I'll go ahead and get Hannah's things, then."

"Thank you," Kurt says. "We appreciate it. We'll see you for dinner?"

"Count on it," Carole agrees.

Kurt takes several deep breaths, then stops a passing flight attendant. "Excuse me, but can I purchase a glass of white wine?"

The flight attendant looks at him curiously, then nods. While she's gone, Kurt makes a reservation for a king suite at the Wingate in downtown Lima for the next several nights. If it were anywhere but Lima, Kurt would just lie about the number of occupants and get a room with a king bed, with the stated maximum occupancy of two. It _is_ Lima, though, where he and Noah are nearly as likely to be recognized as Finn. It makes sense that the three of them would share a room, as long as it's one of the 'suites', theoretically meaning there's a separate place for Finn to sleep. Kurt agrees to the jacuzzi suite, not knowing if they'll have a chance to appreciate it or not. It can't hurt; even if the three of them only squeeze in once in the four to six days they'll likely be in Lima, it seems like it's worth the extra cost. 

"Are you scared of flying?" the flight attendant asks conversationally when she returns with a glass of chardonnay. 

"No." Kurt takes a small sip. "My mother-in-law passed away this morning." He looks down at Noah's head, resting on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm trying to handle as many of the details as I can."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," the flight attendant says almost automatically, moving away with a nod, and Kurt drinks more of the wine before starting to compose a mass message. It's a horrible way to deliver the news, he knows, but he doesn't have the time to talk to everyone on the phone. A few people, he'll call first, he decides. 

"Hey, Kurt! How's my city? You two still holding down the fort while I'm up here in Boston?" Allison says, chipper.

"Hey, Allison." Kurt sighs. "We're actually not home right now. Allison— Noah's mom died this morning."

"Oh, god." All mirth flees from her voice. "Funeral tomorrow?"

"And a memorial service on Sunday morning," Kurt says, giving her all the details, including the address of the synagogue. 

"I'll see what I can do," Allison promises. "Give Noah my condolences." She sounds like she's about to hang up, then gasps. "Oh, Kurt. What about Hannah?"

"She's at school, we're going to tell her when we get there."

"No, I mean— I'm sorry, it's too much, but. Where's she going to go?"

Kurt's brain screeches to a halt. He has no idea what Rina's will might say, if she even has one. He looks at Noah again and finds Noah's limp hand, squeezing it. He remembers very well their wedding and what was said, because they had scoured the text so carefully, making sure they weren't inadvertently promising to exclude all others. _Comfort and challenge each other through life's sorrow and joy_. 

"I don't know," Kurt admits. "But we'll figure it out."

Victoria answers so quickly that Kurt wonders if she's been waiting for him to call, and he quickly realizes that's the case. "Why do you need me to feed Ennis? Noah sent me a message and then didn't respond. I can, of course, but what's happened? I didn't think you were going anywhere this weekend."

"We weren't." Kurt steels himself, thankful he can rely on text after this. "Tori, Noah's mom died this morning."

"Oh, no. Oh, Kurt." Victoria sniffs a little into the phone. "I'll call the cat-sitting place that you two used before and make sure they have everything for Ennis, okay? And then I'll find a flight. Can you text me the details?" Kurt can hear her standing up, rushing around. "I'll talk to you later, Kurt. Oh, I'm just so sorry!"

"Thanks, Tori," Kurt says quietly. "We'll see you in a day or two."

"Yes, you will. Bye, Kurt."

Kurt puts his phone down, carefully typing out the message that has to be sent far and wide. A few people from Tisch; Ben and Zachary; Syd; Mike and Tina; Rachel and a few others from Lima. 

_Noah's mom died this morning. Cause of death was a blood clot; the burial will be small and closed tomorrow morning in Lima; however, there will be a memorial service at Temple Beth Israel-Shaare Zedek on Sunday afternoon. I'll try to keep all of you updated with any further information._

Autocorrect tries to get him to change the name of the synagogue, but he gets the message typed and all the recipients entered before hitting send. He buys a second glass of wine, staring out the window and sipping it. He doesn't know what will happen to Hannah. It's reasonable to think that Nana might take her. It's equally likely Rina wanted Noah and him to take Hannah, or even Carole and Burt. There's also the distinct possibility that Rina didn't leave a will, and that everyone's going to have to make guesses at what Rina would have wanted and what will be best. 

However it all goes, Kurt decides that he and Noah probably need to see a therapist, together, and he sends a quick email to Noah's psychiatrist to set up an appointment just for Noah. Then he thinks about how to find a therapist. Noah's mentioned a few times how he doesn't feel comfortable mentioning their relationship with Finn to his psychiatrist, and Kurt knows that they aren't going to be able to see a therapist without at some point disclosing it. They know, now, that technically they're 'polyamorous', though their lives don't look much like the image of polyamory. Still, it's a place to start. Polyamory-friendly therapist.

It's the fourth link that yields just the result Kurt was hoping for. "One advantage in seeing a specialist is that I will not make it an issue if it is not a problem for you." That's exactly what they need, and Kurt calls while they're still in the air, making an appointment for two weeks later. This isn't going to be easy, not on any of them. 

Kurt turns Noah's phone to silent, before he can start getting messages, and Kurt does the same with his own phone, putting it into his pocket. When they announce that they're approaching Toledo, Kurt puts away his iPad and slowly shakes Noah awake.

"Landing?" Noah mumbles. 

"Yeah, we're approaching Toledo," Kurt says softly. "I've done as much as I can during the flight."

"Okay." Noah nods, stretching a little. "Thanks."

Kurt lets himself have a tiny smile on his face. "We'll do whatever we have to do."

 

As soon as Kurt ends the call, Finn tosses his phone onto his bed and finishes shoving a few changes of clothes into his duffel bag. He freezes for a second, looking at his closet, then takes his dark suit down from the rack and puts it into the garment bag Kurt had insisted he needed. Kurt was right, of course.

Once his bag is packed, Finn stumbles into the bathroom and opens his medicine cabinet, pulling out one of the snack-size ziplock bags with a presorted array of pills: two Tylenol, four ibuprofen, an antacid, his vitamins. He downs the pills with a cup full of water, grabs his toothbrush and razor to toss into his bag, picks up his bag, and sprints down the stairs of his apartment building to his truck. If he speeds, he can make the four hour drive in three-and-a-half.

Finn stops at a gas station just before the Toledo airport and buys five or six different kinds of chocolate, plus some bottles of water to stock the truck. He gets to the airport about twenty minutes before their flights lands, so he walks to the bar in the terminal waiting area and orders a beer while he waits. He finishes his beer quickly and goes to lean against the wall near where the flights disembark. 

They walk out in the middle of a steady stream of passengers, Kurt frowning slightly and Puck just looking blank. Finn immediately crosses to Puck and puts an arm across his shoulders.

“Let’s get you out to the truck,” Finn says quietly, but loud enough for Kurt to hear him, too.

Puck sort of sags against him, and both he and Kurt nod. Finn pilots them to the baggage carousel, where he picks up their bags and throws them over the opposite shoulder from the arm holding Puck, then he steers them out to the parking lot. While Finn puts the bags in the back of the truck, Kurt helps Puck into the seat. 

Once Finn’s in the truck, he hands Puck a bottle of water and gestures at the bag on the floor. “There’s more water in there, and some chocolate. I didn’t know what else to get,” Finn says. “I’m so sorry, Puck.”

Puck half-grins as he looks at the bag and nods, then leans his head on Finn’s shoulder. “Thanks. This is really weird.”

“I thought we’d try to see how far we can get before we stop for lunch,” Kurt says quietly. “Since we’re sort of chasing the last bell at Hannah’s school.”

“Maybe Findlay,” Finn suggests. “Lots of stuff there.”

Kurt nods. “That sounds fine.”

Puck turns his head slightly, looking at Kurt. “You called Nana?”

“Yeah, I think I managed to get most people,” Kurt answers. “But if either of you think of someone specific, let me know.”

Puck nods, rifling through the bag and picking up one of the chocolate bars. He opens it and starts eating it, alternating with drinks of water. Finn rests his hand on Puck’s thigh and rubs a slow circle. Puck half-smiles again, then his eyes close while he keeps eating. He’s asleep by the time Finn merges onto I–75 southbound.

“Because of the rules about being buried as soon as possible, there’ll be a burial tomorrow and then a memorial service on Sunday,” Kurt tells Finn quietly, sighing. “So two things to get through for him.”

“What do you need me to take care of?” Finn asks. “The service? The flights? Did you book a room?”

“One of the suites at the hotel downtown. I told Carole to let Hannah use the guest room. And yes, I used your card for that and the flight. I really don’t know beyond that. I would say to ask Noah, but, well.” Kurt shrugs a little helplessly. “Carole talked to the synagogue and, I would assume, the rabbi.”

“Anything else you two need, put it on the card, and if there’s something I should be doing or anybody I need to talk to, let me know,” Finn says. “I don’t want him to have to deal with anything he doesn’t have to.”

Kurt nods. “I talked to Allison on the flight,” he says, changing the subject abruptly. “She asked me what’s going to happen with Hannah. Do you think Rina left a will?”

“She worked for that lawyer for forever,” Finn points out. “If he’s anything like Syd, he probably nagged her about stuff like that all the time. Hopefully that means yes?”

“That’s true.” Kurt nods again. “They’ll let Hannah go early, right? Because she can’t exactly get a parent’s permission.” His voice is a little too high, getting higher with each word.

“They’ll let her go, Kurt,” Finn says. “Ok? It won’t be a problem. They’ll understand.”

“Okay. Okay.” Kurt slumps against Puck, who’s already leaning on Finn. “At least we still had one parent left,” he says softly. “He doesn’t.”

“He’s got us, though, and we’ll make sure everything gets taken care of for him,” Finn says. 

“That’s true.” Kurt pulls out his phone and looks at it, shaking his head. “Why do people respond to messages like we have time to answer in detail? But we should do drive-through for lunch, I think. Just to be sure we have enough time.”

“Ok, that sounds good. If you need me to text anybody, let me know.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of more people later today. For now, we should probably get to Lima, get Hannah, and make it through dinner.”

Finn nods, and they drive in quiet until they get to Findlay, where Kurt nudges Puck awake as Finn takes them through a drive-through. 

Puck takes his food without a word then straightens suddenly. “I told V2 to feed Ennis,” he says, like it’s the most important thing he can think of.

“I talked to her,” Kurt says. “Ennis’ll be fine.”

“Ennis can live off his own bodyfat for weeks,” Finn says. 

Puck elbows Finn. “He’s not fat, asshole, he’s fluffy.”

“He’s fluffy on top of his fat, asshole,” Finn says, elbowing Puck back gently. “He can be both.”

“Poor Ennis, the subject of much debate,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Either way, he’ll be fine.”

 

"Guess who I just saw in the parking lot?" Ethan announces as they settle into their last class for the day. Hannah rolls her eyes at Rebecca, who giggles. Hannah's still not sure what genius decided they should have history as their last class, directly after dance, but it always makes Ethan extra-loud and extra-braggy. 

"Who?" Tyler demands, because the two of them 'feed off of each other', as the teachers say loudly sometimes. 

"Bluebird Hudson!" Ethan says smugly. 

"Really?" Hannah asks, looking skeptically at Ethan.

"Yep! Two other guys with him, but I didn't recognize them." Ethan shrugs. 

Hannah's eyes widen. "Did one of them have curly hair? And the other one with hair like this?" She tries to approximate what Kurt's hair looks like, or at least what it did when she was last in New York, gesturing with her hands.

"Yeah, maybe," Ethan agrees. "Definitely curly hair on one of them."

"Is that Noah?" Rebecca asks. "Noah and Kurt?"

Hannah nods excitedly. "It sounds like them! I wonder why they're here, they weren't all supposed to fly in until the end of next week."

"What're you talking about?" Ethan says loudly, and Tyler nods. 

"My brothers," Hannah says, lifting her head up and raising an eyebrow. "You saw my brothers."

"Your brothers? I saw Bluebird Hudson and two random guys."

"My brothers." Hannah sighs. Hannah knows her mom's right about not bragging about knowing Finn, but then there's idiots like Ethan and Tyler. She looks at the empty desk in the third row and sighs, missing Stevie a little bit and wishing he hadn't had to move. "My brother Noah's best friend is Finn. Also my brother-in-law is Kurt. Who is Finn's brother?" She stares at Ethan. "Do you not ever _read_?" The two boys shrug and Hannah rolls her eyes. "Obviously not."

Their history teacher walks in then and starts talking about Ohio state history, which is a waste of time as far as Hannah's concerned, especially when her brothers are there. She can't just get up and leave, though; she has to wait for the office to send someone to her classroom, and that's _if_ they don't just make her wait until the school day is over. 

Twenty minutes pass before there's a knock at the door to the classroom, and Mr. Yoder goes to open it. He takes a piece of paper from whoever's outside, reads it, then looks at Hannah. "Hannah Puckerman, you're needed in the office. Collect your things and we'll see you tomorrow."

Hannah nods, quickly putting away her books and standing up, stopping at her locker to get the rest of what she needs. She can't help but grin a little when she thinks of the looks on Ethan and Tyler's faces when she actually did get called out of class. 

The grin fades from her face when she approaches the office, though, because none of the three of them look excited. They look like something's wrong, Noah sandwiched between Kurt and Finn on the rickety chairs, and Hannah can feel her stomach drop. She doesn't know what's going on, but suddenly, their earlier than expected appearance in Lima seems like a bad thing. 

 

The three of them actually arrive outside Liberty sooner than Noah had expected, which means he really has to start thinking about how he’s supposed to tell Hannah. When they walk into the office, the clerk doesn’t even look up at first. 

“We’re here to sign out Hannah Puckerman,” Finn says. 

“Need a parent’s signature,” the clerk says, still not looking up.

“Her brother’s with us,” Finn says, gesturing at Noah. “He’s on the list of people who can sign her out. Look, we just…” He sighs. “There’s been a death in the family.”

The clerk finally looks up and looks at all three of them. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says automatically. “Let me just verify it against her file.” She slides to a different computer. “What name did you say again?”

“Hannah Puckerman,” Noah answers her. “And, uh, I guess she won’t be here the rest of the week, probably.” He pulls out his wallet and shows his license to her. 

“Ah, yes, there you are. We’ll just need some kind of statement about the reason for the absence when she returns,” the clerk explains. “Let me send a messenger to her classroom.”

Noah nods and the three of them turn to sit down and wait. They aren’t even fully seated in the rickety chairs when someone else walks into the office and stops short. “I know all of you,” he says, and Noah almost laughs, because it’s Brad the piano guy. 

“And hopefully you think of us fondly?” Kurt replies. “Are you still doing piano for the glee club at McKinley?”

“It helps pay the bills,” Brad agrees. “Oh, and you.” He looks at Finn. “You’re doing something that gets you on the news sometimes, aren’t you?”

Finn gives Brad a half-smile. “Yeah, doing something.”

“Well. Good to see you.” Brad puts down something on the counter near the clerk and then nods, walking back out of the office.

“Really can’t go anywhere in Lima,” Noah comments. “But it’s good you’re doing something, Finn.”

“Hey, if he doesn’t know what I’m doing, no reason to tell him,” Finn says with a shrug. 

“No, in general. Good to be doing something.” Noah shakes his head. “The alternative is life as a slug.” He frowns. “But this is kind of… open.”

“I’ll go see about a room or something, ok?” Finn says. He stands up and walks back to the clerk, talking to her quietly for a few minutes before coming back to sit down. “She’s going to let us into the teacher’s lounge.”

Noah nods, and a few minutes later he hears footsteps before Hannah says “Noah?”

“C’mon, Squirt,” Noah says, standing up and looking at Finn questioningly. 

“What’s going on? You’re all here early.”

“Just a moment, Hannah,” Kurt says. 

The clerk leads them all to what is apparently the teachers’ lounge, and Noah sits down on the couch, gesturing for Hannah to sit beside him. Finn sits on the other side of Hannah, and Kurt sits beside Noah, both of them silent.

“Hannah,” Noah says, then stops. He doesn’t know how to tell her this; he doesn’t know how Kurt managed to tell him. “Hannah, it’s—”

“Is something wrong with Nana? Did she have another heart attack? She told Mom she was fine!”

“No, it’s not Nana,” Noah says. “Hannah, it’s— it’s Mom.”

“Was she in a car accident? Do we have to go see her at the hospital?” Hannah’s eyes are wide and for the first time, Noah wonders if the anxiety could actually be genetic. He takes her hands and shakes his head. 

“Squirt, no. There was. She had a blood clot, and it got loose, I guess.”

“No! No, you’re lying. Stop it, Noah, stop it!”

Finn puts his arm around Hannah and pulls her close. “It’s true, Hannah,” he says. “I’m so sorry. All of us are here, though, and we’re gonna stay here with you, ok?”

Hannah shakes her head, and Noah can see tears starting to run down her cheeks. “No, no, why? Why? No. She’s not old enough to— she’s not old enough!”

And whether Hannah’s thinking it or not, there’s the corollary that _Hannah’s_ not old enough. “I know,” Noah says. “I know, Squirt. It’s not fair.”

“Let us get you out of here, Hannah,” Kurt says. “Okay?”

“I don’t want to see anyone,” Hannah mumbles.

“You don’t have to,” Noah says. “Promise.”

“Hey, come here,” Finn says, and he pulls Hannah against his chest as he stands up, picking her up as he goes. “You just hang on to me and we’ll get you out of here fast.”

Noah stands up, Kurt standing up with him, and they probably make a strange procession, but no one stops them on the way out to the truck as they squeeze in. Finn sets Hannah on the seat next to him and gestures for Noah to buckle himself and Hannah in together. 

“Go to the hotel?” Kurt says quietly to Finn.

Finn nods and pulls out of the school parking lot in the direction of the hotel. On the way, he goes through a drive-through to get them each a pop and an ice cream for Hannah. Hannah eats it half-heartedly and when they pull up at the hotel, Kurt goes inside and returns a few minutes later with three keys. 

“Park around the side, we’re on the fourth floor near the end. Since I got the one with the tub.”

“Yeah, you’ll like that,” Noah says to Finn.

“I always like a tub,” Finn agrees. He parks where directed, and leaves Hannah to Noah and Kurt, getting the luggage from the back of the truck. 

Kurt leads them upstairs, and Noah sprawls on the sofa as soon as they’re inside. “Least it’s not a small bed.”

“Am I staying here? Who’s staying here?” Hannah looks a little bewildered. 

“Carole and my dad said you could stay in the guest room for at least a few days,” Kurt tells her. “We thought we’d stay here so you didn’t have to stay on Audrey’s floor.”

“But.” Hannah frowns. “Why can’t I stay here? Is this— this is the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Well.” Kurt sighs and exchanges a glance with Noah before he turns towards Finn. “Finn? Should we?” Finn just nods. 

“We’re uh.” Noah frowns. “It’s not the best term for it, but do you know what polyamorous is?”

“No.” Hannah looks at him blankly. “What’s that mean?”

“Damn. Uh. Threesome?”

“Please.” Hannah rolls her eyes. “Of course I know what a threesome— whoa. Wait.” She turns to look at Finn. “You, all three of you?”

“I… uh.” Finn looks at Kurt and then at Noah, then shrugs helplessly. “It kinda takes three people for it to count as a _three_ some, spidermonkey.”

Hannah crinkles up her nose. “I guess that’s a good reason for not letting me visit at the same time,” she says finally. “But. I.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to have more questions later.”

Noah nods. “Figured you would. But yeah, we’re going to stay here, and you’re going to stay with Burt and Carole.”

“Carole wants us all to eat dinner together tonight,” Kurt says, looking up from his phone. “She’s apparently sent Dad to get Nana, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Noah nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“She has some paperwork, too.” Kurt shrugs. “Come on. On the bed. All of us.”

Hannah looks askance at Kurt. “All of us?”

“If you’re as tactile as your brother, yes.”

Noah shrugs, because Kurt’s probably right, and he gets up from the sofa to sprawl on the bed instead, Kurt against his back, and after a second, Hannah crawls onto the middle of the bed, too. Finn lies down on the other side of Hannah and puts an arm across all of them. 

“We don’t have to go anywhere until dinner, right?” Noah asks.

“No,” Kurt answers. “God, I wish people would stop trying to call.” Kurt shifts a little and Noah can hear him looking at the phone. “Did you leave your phone in Chicago, darling?”

“Huh?” Finn asks, pulling his arm away from Hannah, Kurt, and Noah to pat his pocket. “Maybe it’s in my bag? Or maybe it’s— shit. On the bed in Chicago.”

“Guess who’s ever so concerned about your whereabouts,” Kurt says dryly.

“Do we have to guess?” Noah mumbles into the bedcovers. 

“I know you’ve talked to Mom, so… oh.” Finn looks sheepish. “Yeah. Didn’t think about calling her.”

“She got the mass text I sent out, but would you call her and inform her that you’re not dead, and that we’ll see her this weekend?” Kurt asks, holding out his phone towards Finn. 

Noah snorts. “I’m surprised Carole’s not called to say Hiram and Leroy are at her house already.”

Finn takes the phone from Kurt and sits up, sighing. “Ok, just excuse me a second, I guess.” He walks into the other room of the suite without closing the doors behind him, and they can hear him talking to Rachel in clipped tones. “Well, yeah, I left it. No. No, Rach, it wasn’t on purpose. Because they asked me to.” He sighs again, loudly. “I don’t think you need to do that. Saturday afternoon is fine. Look, just give ’em a break and stop texting, ok?” He pauses for a while, then adds, “Yeah, you too,” before ending the call and walking back into the room, tossing Kurt the phone and crawling back onto the bed. 

“Sorry, darling,” Kurt says, putting the phone on the side of the bed. “But thank you.”

“Yeah, well, beards are itchy,” Finn says. 

“I feel like we’re forgetting something or someone,” Noah admits, leaning back against Kurt and resting his hand against Finn’s chest, arm draped over Hannah. 

“You texted Syd?” Finn asks Kurt. 

Kurt nods. “Syd, Ben, and Zachary; I called Allison and Tori. Oh, and I texted Mike and Tina and a few other people, too.”

Finn’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Shelby?”

“Shit. No,” Kurt says, sighing heavily. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs into Noah’s hair, and Noah shakes his head. 

“Remembered more than I would have,” Noah admits.

“You want me to?” Finn offers. “I don’t mind. I can.”

“Yeah,” Noah answers before Kurt can, because he’s pretty sure Kurt was on the phone the entire time they were on the plane. “Thanks.”

“Hand me back the phone, bossofme. I’ll go take care of it now.”

Kurt reaches behind him and passes Finn the phone again. “Communal phone. Actually. Baby, why don’t you let Finn take your phone for a few days.”

“Hmm?” Noah turns his head but still can’t see Kurt, so he shrugs. “Yeah, okay.” He pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to Finn without looking at it. “I’ve had it on silent since I left work and I haven’t looked at it since, either, so good luck.”

Finn takes the phone from Noah’s hand. “I’ll take care of all of it, clear out the messages or whatever. Don’t worry about any of that stuff.”

“Okay. Shelby’s in there under Shelby.” Noah stops and shakes his head. “Oh, you know what I meant.”

“I’ll figure it out, dude. It’s a phone, not launch codes,” Finn says. “Unless you’ve got launch codes in here under ‘Launch Codes’.”

“No, just secret coffee codes.” Noah manages to half-heartedly grin. “You’d be surprised at what Starbucks can come up with.”

“As long as they don’t stop putting whip on things,” Kurt says. 

“I like whipped cream,” Hannah agrees.

“Everybody likes whipped cream, orangutan,” Finn says, booping her nose with his finger before sitting up again. “I’m going back in here to make some calls and clear your phone out, ok? But if any of you need me, just tell me.”

 

Kurt is almost certain that Noah doesn’t actually register that he’s barely let go of Kurt’s hand over the past eight or so hours. It’s not prevented him from accomplishing tasks like buckling the seat belt or drinking a pop, but after each is done, his hand finds its way back into Kurt’s automatically. The drive from the hotel to dinner is no different, Hannah and Noah still sandwiched between Finn and Kurt, and Kurt knows Burt’s going to frown at them for squeezing four people into three seat belts. 

Finn pulls into the driveway and Kurt notes that both Burt and Carole’s vehicles are there, which should mean Nana is there, too. “Let’s go eat,” Kurt forces himself to say, climbing out of the truck and waiting for Noah.

“I’m not really that hungry,” Hannah says. “I don’t feel full, either.”

“I bet Mom still has some of Audrey’s old spoons. I could feed you like a baby bird,” Finn offers. “I could even make the airplane noises if you need me to.”

“Hey, that’s just what you do with little sisters,” Noah says, smiling slightly. “Right?”

“Hannah’s like my giant ugly baby bird,” Finn coos at her. “She has the prettiest beak.”

“Hopefully Carole stocked up on worms, then,” Kurt says, the four of them walking towards the front door. 

“All three of you are picking on me!” Hannah protests, but Kurt can see her almost smiling. 

“That’s ’cause you’re _our_ giant ugly baby bird, and we love you best of all the ugly birds in the world,” Finn says. 

The front door opens and Carole opens the door. “Oh, come here, you two.” She reaches for Hannah first and pulls her into a hug. “Oh, I am so sorry, honey.” When she releases Hannah, she reaches for Noah, hugging him even while Noah’s still clinging to Kurt’s hand. “Your Nana’s already here.”

“Hi, Carole,” Kurt says quietly as he passes her, letting himself be dragged along with Noah. 

“Hey, Mom,” Finn says, putting his arms around Carole and hugging her. 

“Hi, honey,” Carole says, ushering Finn inside until they’re all in the living room. “Did you talk to Rachel? She called here a little while ago.”

“Yeah, I forgot my phone in Chicago,” Finn explains. “She’ll fly in on Saturday. She didn’t need to miss any more shows than she had to, right?”

“Oh, okay,” Carole says, nodding, then she raises her voice. “Burt! They’re here!”

“Be right in,” Burt calls back. 

“Finn!” Audrey squeals from the same room as Burt. “Finnfinnfinnfinnfinn!” Her feet thump loudly on the floor as she runs into the room, Burt behind her. “Finn!”

Finn holds his arms out so Audrey can jump into them. “Hey, Audie-Aud!”

“Upside down me! Upside down me!” Audrey leans backwards until Finn flips her upside down and holds her by her feet. 

“One day he’s going to do that for too long and she’s going to look like a strawberry or a cherry,” Kurt muses. 

“Come here, Noah,” Nana says from the sofa, and Noah walks over and sits beside her obediently, Hannah on her other side. 

Kurt turns to Burt and manages something approximating a half-smile. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, kid. How’re you two holding up?” Burt asks, reaching towards Kurt for a hug. 

“Ask me again in a few days?” Kurt says lightly, returning the hug. “I’m more worried about Hannah in the immediate future.”

“She can stay with us as long as she needs to, while we get everything sorted out,” Burt says. “Carole brought Rina’s papers, so we can go through all of that whenever you’re ready.”

“Probably best to at least look through them tonight,” Kurt admits, glancing at where Nana has her arms around both Hannah and Noah. “Maybe Audrey and Hannah can watch a movie or something.”

Carole gets everyone into the dining room after that, and the conversation as they eat is at best stilted. There’s a few sentences about Kurt and Noah’s school, then someone asks Hannah about her grades before the topic switches again to Finn’s upcoming season, rapidly followed by Audrey and the art she’s been producing. None of it sits well and none of the topics manage to dispel the uneasy feeling, so it’s almost a relief when they clear the table and Carole collects Audrey and Hannah and takes them into the living room, setting up a movie and then returning with a box. 

“Everything was very organized,” Carole says. “I didn’t do more than leaf through it. There’s a folder with birth certificates and vaccination records, that sort of thing, for you and Hannah, Noah. And then there’s this.” She picks up a manila envelope from the box and sets it on the table. It’s stuffed relatively full, and Kurt can make out the writing on the front easily.

‘In case of my death.’

They all stare at the envelope for a long moment, until Noah sighs heavily and reaches for it. He opens it and pulls things out, handing them around the table after brief glances at each paper or set of papers. “So, uh. Let’s see what’s here?” Noah says finally. 

“I just have numbers,” Kurt says. “Bank account numbers, credit card numbers and where to cancel them, account numbers for utilities. And some online passwords.” He shrugs. “That can probably wait at least a few days?”

“This is insurance paperwork,” Finn says, gesturing with the sheaf of papers he’s holding. “Life insurance.”

“That’s good,” Noah says, like he doesn’t really know what he’s saying. 

“I have funeral wishes,” Carole says. “I think most of this is in line with what I was told earlier, but I’ll take care of it.”

“This is just the car paperwork,” Burt says. “Insurance, title, emissions paperwork, that kind of thing.”

“Where is her car?” Noah asks. 

“The police had it towed to the shop they use, but I’m calling in the morning to get it towed over to my shop,” Burt says. 

“Okay.” Noah looks confused still, and Kurt can’t honestly remember if he told Noah all the details that Carole gave him. 

“I’ve got all the custody and divorce paperwork,” Nana says. “Plus Hannah’s social security card, and Rina’s too.”

“And I’ve got the will,” Noah says. “Guess we should see what it says.”

Kurt puts his hand back on Noah’s leg, squeezing gently, as Noah opens the envelope with the will. Several smaller envelopes fall out, each with a name written on it, but Noah ignores them and unfolds the will itself.

“It’s dated in January,” he says first. 

“Rina did tell me she updated all her paperwork every year,” Nana says. “I suppose that could include updating her will.”

“She wants most of the stuff in the apartment to be given away,” Noah says as he reads. “I don’t really— there’s stuff about a trust for the life insurance money? But I think it just means it’s divided between Hannah and I, but she’s not eighteen.” Noah grips the paper a little more tightly. “She wants you and I to take her, blue eyes,” Noah says softly. 

Kurt nods, not really surprised. In Rina’s position, he probably would make the same sort of decision. Nana’s in relatively good health, but he can’t imagine her taking care of a teenager full-time. 

“So. That’s pretty much it,” Noah concludes, putting the paper down. “The most complicated part is about the trust.” He looks at Burt. “Do you know anything about that?”

Burt shakes his head. “All we ever had was life insurance. I think a trust is for minor children, so they get their share of an estate when they turn eighteen?”

“Not quite,” Carole says. “May I look at it, Noah?”

Noah nods and hands her the will. “Yeah, sure.”

“I think she wanted it this way to keep the existence of the life insurance funds from affecting financial aid type things for everyone,” Carole says after a moment. “Since it says Hannah has a larger portion in order to cover the cost of an additional member of the household.”

“Oh, okay.” Noah shrugs. 

“But, Noah.” Carole exchanges a glance with Burt. “We’d be happy to have Hannah continue to live here with us in Lima. You boys have school and an entire life in New York, and I think Rina would understand not being able to easily add a teenager to that.”

“Absolutely. We have the spare bedroom, Audrey loves her,” Burt says, nodding his head in agreement. “It wouldn’t be a hardship for us to take her.”

“I don’t know?” Noah says, looking confused. 

“Let’s just get through tomorrow morning, maybe?” Kurt suggests. “At least we have a basic idea of where things stand now.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Nana says. “Noah, what were those other envelopes?”

“Oh, uh, letters.” Noah picks them up and reads the names off, handing them out as he can. “This one’s yours, Nana. Carole. Me. Kurt. Finn. And that one’s for Hannah.”

Kurt picks up his without opening it, and Nana does the same. Carole holds hers for a moment before sliding her finger under the flap. She reads the letter inside without comment, smiling sadly at the end before folding it and replacing it in the envelope. Finn and Noah both pocket theirs, and everyone sits at the table silently for a few moments.

“Burt, could I trouble you to take me home now?” Nana says finally. “I’ll see everyone in the morning.”

“It’s no trouble,” Burt says, offering Nana a hand to help her up from her seat. 

“Bye, Nana,” Noah says, and she squeezes his shoulder before leaving the room. Kurt can hear her telling Hannah and Audrey goodbye, and silence falls on the table again. 

“Finn, we should go ahead and go back to the hotel,” Kurt decides.

“Did we want to bring any of this?” Finn asks, gesturing around the table at the paperwork. “Or leave it until tomorrow?”

“We’ll go ahead and take it,” Kurt says after a moment. “Hannah probably doesn’t need to read any of it at this point, except the letter for her.” Noah nods his agreement, starting to stack everything up.

“Do you boys want to come over here for breakfast or just meet later?” Carole asks. 

“We’ll just meet later,” Noah says after a moment. “But thanks.”

“If you’re sure,” Carole says, almost fretting.

“We’re sure,” Kurt answers for Noah. “But thank you.” The three of them tell Hannah and Audrey good night, and Kurt stops in the driveway as the three of them stand there. “We clearly selected our set lists senior year too well, my loves.”

Finn puts an arm around each of them, pulling them against his chest. “We’ll get it all figured out.”

 

It only takes about five minutes after entering the hotel room for Noah to find himself naked in the bed, underneath the covers and between Kurt and Finn. He’s not really sure what time it is or even how, exactly, he ended up naked, but he’s going to go with it, squished between them. 

“I think Burt and Carole think we shouldn’t take her,” Noah says. “Didn’t you get that impression?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says slowly. “Finn, what did you think?”

“It almost felt like they’d already discussed it,” Finn says. “Like no matter what the will said, they were going to try to get her.”

“Are they right?” Noah asks. “We _are_ still in school. And I don’t know how we’d afford a bigger place. I mean, Mom couldn’t have had _that_ much life insurance. Right?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Finn says quietly. “Yeah, she really kinda could have that much.”

Kurt shifts on Noah’s other side as they both look at Finn. “Yeah?” Noah says. “But… okay. That’s good, I guess. Right? That’s good?” Noah feels like he’s not making all the connections, or there’s some piece of information that he’s missing. 

“It means money shouldn’t be the primary concern, I suppose. Which also I suppose Dad and Carole couldn’t have known,” Kurt notes. “But I think you’re right, darling. They did seem to have already discussed it.”

“Are they right?” Noah asks again. 

“It’s not like Hannah’s a baby or even a really little kid,” Finn says. “It’s not like if something happened and we had to worry about taking care of Audrey. Hannah’s mostly done, so it’s not like you could mess her up that much now, anyway. Right?”

Noah laughs in spite of himself. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.”

“I guess… do you _want_ Burt and my mom raising her the rest of the way?” Finn asks. 

“No. Not really.” Noah sighs. “And yeah, we’ve got a year of grad school left, but I wouldn’t really want her to do part of high school one place and the rest another place.”

“High school’s hard enough as it is,” Kurt agrees. “It’s true that we don’t really know anything about raising a teenage girl, though.”

“Neither do Burt and Mom, though,” Finn points out. “Besides, what do you think Hannah would want? You know she’s gonna want to be with you guys.”

“She did ask if she could spend the entire summer in New York this year,” Kurt says. 

“She needs to finish this school year here, I guess?” Noah says. “And we do have to find a new place. So we could let Burt and Carole have her stay with them for another month or so. We could get her after that?”

“That could work,” Kurt agrees.

“Oh, shit.” Noah groans. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Finn asks. “New-wrong, I mean?”

“Dude, we only know one person who was raised by two guys,” Noah points out. “Clearly there’s something not quite right about what they did.”

“Well, neither of us is likely to think Hannah’s perfect and can do no wrong, so I think that puts us slightly ahead. Doesn’t it?” Kurt frowns. 

“And neither one of you is very much like Hiram or Leroy,” Finn says. “I think you’ll be ok. Besides, Puck… you were sorta raising her from when she was really little until you left for New York.”

Noah sighs. “Yeah. I know. I guess if we need a woman to talk to her, Tina’s around. And Syd’s not far. And Allison’s in Boston, but that’s not that far.” He frowns. “Why are you so far away?”

“We’re right here,” Kurt says with hint of laughter in his voice. “You want us even closer?”

“Yes.” Noah turns to look at Finn. “Are you going to tell me you can’t get closer?”

“Here, we’ll see what we can do,” Finn says, grabbing Noah and dragging him into his lap. 

Kurt does laugh, moving so that he’s sitting on both Noah and Finn. “Better, baby?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Noah leans his head back against Finn as Kurt squeezes closer. “Possibly acceptable.” Finn kisses the top of Noah’s head and wraps his arms around both Noah and Kurt. 

“Do we have to sleep this way?” Kurt asks.

“Yep.” Noah grins. “Just like this. That okay, darling?”

“As long as everybody remembers they’re using me for a bed and don’t try to, like, fluff the pillow or something,” Finn says. 

“That sounds kinky,” Noah says approvingly. “Blue eyes, you should fluff Finn’s pillow. See? At the very least moderately dirty.”

“Yeah, yeah. You think everything’s moderately dirty,” Finn grumbles, tightening his arms around them. “Sleep.”

“With the three of us, most things are,” Noah argues, then closes his eyes. “Okay. Night, blue eyes. Night, darling.”

“Good night, baby,” Kurt says softly.

 

After eating their continental breakfast, the three of them get their suits on, and then Finn drives them to the cemetery. Kurt makes Puck take a half a Xanax with breakfast, but Finn sees Kurt pocketing the bottle just in case. Nobody talks on the drive; there’s not exactly anything to say about driving to a cemetery to bury somebody he’s known since he was seven.

Burt, Carole, Nana, Hannah, and the rabbi meet them at the entrance to the cemetery, and they all walk in together. Both Finn and Kurt put an arm around Puck, and Nana has her arms around Hannah. Finn hasn’t been to a lot of funerals, and this is his first Jewish funeral, but he’s really too focused on Puck to pay too much attention to the details. Nana gives a nice eulogy, but when the rabbi asks Puck if he’d like to say anything, he just shakes his head.

They stand by the graveside while it’s filled, which is different from the other two funerals he’s been to, and afterwards, Finn and Kurt steer Puck back to Finn’s truck and follow Burt and Nana’s cars over to the house. 

“I’ll go ahead and tell them today,” Puck says when they’re about halfway there. “She needs to stay with them to finish out the school year and while we get a bigger place, but.”

“It’s probably better that it’s not too abrupt,” Kurt agrees.

“She’ll like New York,” Finn says. “It’s better than everywhere.”

“I have no idea where the closest high school is.” Puck shakes his head. “I don’t know anything about schools in New York, actually.”

“I bet there’s a website or a phone number or whatever,” Finn says. “We’ll Google it later, ok? It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck agrees, then falls silent again.

Finn parks on the street and they walk inside. His mom’s already running around pouring cups of coffee, and Hannah’s sitting on the sofa picking at a slice of strawberry pie. Puck shakes his head to refuse both pie and coffee, though Kurt takes a mug of coffee before sitting down next to Hannah on the sofa. Nana sits in Burt’s recliner with a small slice of pie and a big mug of coffee, looking drained.

Finn stands with his slice of pie and eats it while he listens to other people trying to make conversation. Carole keeps trying to convince Puck to take a slice of pie, and Puck keeps refusing. Three of the Knitzvahs come and visit with Nana for about forty-five minutes before they leave, saying something in Hebrew to Nana, Puck, and Hannah as they go. 

After a little while longer of everybody sitting around in silence, Finn goes into the kitchen and starts putting roast beef sandwiches from the tray the Knitzvahs brought onto plates for people. Finn puts some of the horseradish sauce they also brought on his, Puck’s, and Kurt’s, and he brings the plates in to Puck and Kurt.

“Here, you should eat a sandwich,” Finn says, putting the plate on Puck’s leg. 

“Okay,” Puck says, nodding a little and picking up the sandwich to take a bite.

“Thank you,” Kurt says quietly, nodding at Finn.

Finn goes back into the kitchen and gets sandwiches for Nana and Hannah, bringing them into the living room, then he goes back in for his own plate, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Puck. 

After everyone’s eaten their sandwiches, Finn collects their plates and puts them away, then sits back on the arm of the sofa. 

“Thanks for the offer,” Puck says, looking at Burt and Carole, “and it’d be good if Hannah could stay here to finish up the school year and let us get a few things settled at home, but Mom wanted us to take her, so.”

“Are you sure, honey?” Carole says immediately. “Like we said last night, we’d be happy to take her while the two of you finish grad school, at least.” She looks to Burt to back her up.

“It’s no trouble at all. We’re used to having her around ever since Audrey was born,” Burt says. 

“Whether or not it’s any trouble isn’t really the point, Dad,” Kurt says to Burt. “We have the summer to get things arranged with high school and everything for her.”

“I know you two want to do what’s best for Hannah,” Burt says, “but I don’t think you really understand the commitment involved with full-time parenting.”

“Probably not,” Kurt admits. “But we do know that it’s what Rina wanted. And don’t try to tell me she wasn’t aware you and Carole were an option.”

“She could have felt like she couldn’t put us down,” Carole argues. “She always said she couldn’t thank us enough for letting Hannah be here after school.” Carole looks apologetically at Nana and then Puck. “We all know that sometimes she was more clear-headed than others.”

“Mom!” Finn says. “She had everything really organized. I think she knew what she was saying when she made her will.”

“She did,” Kurt says calmly. “She knew what she was asking us to do.”

“You know, Hannah is sitting _right there_ , you guys,” Finn says. “Hey, stink-face, has anybody asked you what _you_ wanna do?”

Hannah looks up and sticks her tongue out at Finn. “Just you, ursinus. I’d rather go to New York, though.”

“There,” Finn says definitively, pointing at Hannah. “She wants to go to New York. Also, I don’t know what ursinus means, but it sounds like something to do with pee.”

“It means bear, duh.” Hannah rolls her eyes. 

“Can’t really argue with that,” Puck says suddenly. “She’s got you there.”

“Only professionally,” Finn shoots back.

“So, Dad, Carole,” Kurt says, looking at Burt and Carole with just one corner of his mouth twitching upwards, “we’ll make things work. But it won’t be a problem for Hannah to stay here until probably around the beginning of July?”

“Of course not. But if you change your mind—”

“We won’t.” Puck shifts his attention to Nana, closing the entire topic. “Did you want Hannah and I to come with you tomorrow night?”

“That would be lovely,” Nana agrees. “You boys are going to take care of things at the apartment?” She looks from Puck to Kurt and Finn.

Finn nods. “Yeah, we’ll go over later, maybe tomorrow. Not right now.”

Nana nods. “I’ll leave that in your capable hands, then.”

 

Noah never realized how full days with absolutely nothing could feel. They leave Carole and Burt at their house to go out for an early dinner on Thursday, and then Noah’s more than happy to go back to the hotel with Kurt and Finn, where they use the tub and then go to bed. Another continental breakfast in the morning and then hours sorting through things at the apartment, into ‘keep’, ‘donate’, and ‘trash’. Hannah makes two ‘keep’ piles in her room, one to be kept out, and one to pack. Finn goes and gets Joey’s for lunch, and then after they work for awhile longer, Carole calls Finn, asking if he’ll come visit her at work. 

Noah finds himself asking to tag along before he even thinks about it, because he’s sort of curious if Ms. Horatio’s still running the Starbucks, and if she is, he wouldn’t mind seeing her. Kurt and Hannah stay in the apartment, and Noah finds himself in the lobby a short time later, Finn heading upstairs towards Carole’s office. 

Noah studies the Starbucks for a moment, noting the things that have changed and the things that haven’t, then walks up to the counter. “Hi. Ms. Horatio still manage this place?”

The kid behind the counter, whose name tag IDs him as Charles, says, “She does, but she’s not in yet. She’ll be here in about a half-hour, though. Did you want to talk to her?”

“Yeah, I’ll wait.” Noah jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Gotta wait on my ride anyway.” He shrugs, wondering if what the _Advocate_ article two years before said still held true. “You go to McKinley?”

Charles nods. “Yeah, I’m a senior there.”

“PFLAG still running?”

“Yeah. Why? Did you used to go to McKinley?” Charles asks. 

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I went to McKinley. Years ago now, I guess you’d say.”

“Cool. Was PFLAG going when you were there?”

“Our senior year, yeah, that’s when it started. Good to know it’s still going.” 

Charles grins. “Yeah, I do some publicity stuff for them. Posters and talking to the media sometimes. There was an article about us in the _Advocate_ a couple years ago!”

Noah returns the grin. “Yeah, we keep up with things a little bit. Pretty nice little piece. Taylor was a freshman our senior year, so it was good to see he was—how does Finn like to put it?—continuing our legacy of diversity or excellence or whatever.”

“Taylor’s cool,” Charles says. “He dated a friend of mine for a while, off and on.”

“Yeah, and they won Nationals that year, right? The glee club, I mean.” 

“The year of the article? Yeah, they did.”

“Good to know a few of ’em listened.” Noah laughs to himself. “Anyway, sorry to interrogate you. Let me get a grande Americano?” 

“No problem,” Charles says. 

“At a discount, though,” Noah adds, rattling off his partner ID number. Charles nods, smiles, and rings up Noah’s order. 

“It won’t be too long for Ms. Horatio,” Charles says. “You can wait as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, taking his Americano with a nod. He wanders over to the corner and sits down, starting to pull out his phone before he remembers that Finn still has it. About twenty minutes pass before Ms. Horatio walks in, approaching the counter, and Noah can hear Charles saying something to her before she turns around and heads towards Noah. 

“McKinley alum that still works at Starbucks,” she says, smiling. “Even with the hair, I’d still recognize you, you know.”

Noah laughs and stands up, offering his hand, but Ms. Horatio pulls him into a hug. “It’s good to see you,” he says truthfully. 

“You too. I got that wedding announcement a few years ago.”

“You did say you wanted to know.”

“So I did,” she agrees. “And you’re still at Starbucks?”

“Assistant manager at Broadway & 70th. Along with grad school.”

“Look at you.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Things are good, then?”

“Overall, yeah,” Noah agrees. “I should be thanking you, you know.”

“Thanking me?” Ms. Horatio says, looking confused.

“The day I walked in here and you offered me a job— I’d just about hit the point I didn’t know where I was going. Having at least one person think I could do a good job at something.” Noah shrugs. “It made even more of a difference than I realized at the time.”

“Then I think everyone else was just a little slow,” Ms. Horatio says, hugging him again. “But what brings you back to Lima? Just visiting?”

Noah sighs, because for a few minutes he had let himself – well, not forget, but not actively think about it. “My mom died, actually. We’ll be here through Monday or so, probably.”

“Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry to hear that. I wish you were here for a happier reason.”

“Thanks.” Noah shrugs. “It was a shock, but, well.” He shrugs again. He’s already dreading Sunday, when he has to come up with multiple variations to answer the repeated “I’m sorry” and “how are you holding up” type comments. 

Noah sits back down, and Ms. Horatio joins him, asking a few questions about New York, but before too long, Finn comes back down to the lobby. He walks into the Starbucks, his smile wearing a little thin.

“Hey, sorry. Done finally,” Finn says. 

“You escaped?” Noah says wryly. “You remember Ms. Horatio.”

“Sure do! Hey, Ms. Horatio,” Finn says, offering her his hand to shake.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ms. Horatio says, taking his hand with a smile. “I’ll let the two of you go, then, Noah, but it was good to see you.”

“You too,” Noah says sincerely, standing. “Oh, hey, Finn, the little guy working’s in PFLAG.”

“Hey, awesome! I guess anybody we know’s long gone, though, huh?” Finn says. 

“He has a friend that dated Taylor on and off,” Noah answers, shrugging. “Other than that, yeah, I think so.” Noah turns back towards the counter and lifts a hand towards Ms. Horatio and Charles before turning to walk out of the store. Finn slings his arm across Noah’s shoulders and pulls him closer as they walk back out to the truck.

“So, where to now?” Finn asks. 

Noah leans against Finn. “Let’s go get K and go back to the hotel before we eat dinner. Burt was going to get Hannah while we were gone, I think.”

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” Finn says. “We can put you to bed for a little while if you want to, let you take a nap.”

Noah laughs. “That wasn’t what I had in mind to do in bed.”

“Me neither,” Finn confesses. “Thought I’d offer, though.”

 

Kurt sighs as Noah closes the apartment door behind them. Two full days of work, and everything's finally in boxes or bags. The trash is in the apartment's dumpster, Burt's picked up all of the boxes that are being kept, along with Hannah’s belongings, and the remainder of the things to be donated or sold are all in the apartment's living room. Burt and Carole will list everything on craigslist or see that it's donated, which means that while they'll have to go back through some of the 'keep' boxes, with pictures and things, Noah doesn't have to go back in that apartment again. The next day will be long enough, with the visiting and the service. Kurt knows there are a ton of people they know in town now, most of them checked into the same hotel, so Kurt will count it as a victory if they get to their room without encountering any of them. 

"Finn just said to meet him at the truck," Kurt reminds Noah. "He took those last trash bags."

"Right." Noah shakes his head and slides his arm around Kurt's waist as they walk down the stairs. "Can we just have pizza delivered to the hotel or something?"

"That sounds entirely appropriate to me," Kurt says as they approach the truck. 

Finn’s leaning against the truck, but straightens when they get closer. “Is that everything?”

“That’s all,” Kurt confirms with a nod. “We were thinking delivery for dinner.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s get out of here.” Finn waits for Kurt and Noah to walk around to the passenger side of the truck before getting in and starting it. 

They almost could have walked from the hotel to the apartment and back again, but as they drive the short distance, Kurt thinks that the chances of encountering a familiar face would have gone up exponentially had they chosen that course of action. As it is, when they pull into the lot, Kurt puts his hand up. 

“Wait.”

“What is it?” Noah asks. 

“Do you really want to see anyone we know right now?” Kurt asks. Noah shakes his head. “As much as I like our friends, having a conversation in the parking lot before they even check in might not be a desired course of action.” Kurt turns to Finn. “Park in the back, not here along the road?”

“Ok,” Finn says, and steers the truck to the back of the building to park. “Was there somebody specific you saw?”

"I can't be sure," Kurt admits. "It's rather unusual to see someone under the age of thirty voluntarily vacationing in Lima, though, especially in mid-May." After the truck stops, the three of them climb out and go in the back entrance, straight into the room. 

“We should order dinner twice,” Noah says with a snort. “One now and one later. Except I guess it’d be pizza both times.”

“I can go out and get something later, if you want it,” Finn offers. “I can get us some dessert or whatever.”

“Maybe.” Noah kicks off his shoes and takes off his T-shirt before lying on the bed. “But then you’d have to leave.”

“And that’s to be avoided for all of us, then, I assume?” Kurt asks, copying Noah’s example before sitting on the side of the bed that’s become ‘his’ while they’re there.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Then I won’t,” Finn says, pulling off his shirt and sitting down on the opposite side of Noah. 

“Good.” Noah lifts his head up and squints. “Anything I’ve missed on my phone?”

“Some texts and voicemails, but it’s all pretty much the same stuff,” Finn says. “I didn’t delete them but I can if you want me to.”

“I guess I need to know if my manager sent anything.” Noah shrugs. “Other than that, I have no idea what to do with any of it.”

“One disadvantage to electronic communication, come to think of it,” Kurt muses. “If they had written letters, you could have sent back preprinted cards of acknowledgement or something. But actually I called your boss and mine both and let them know it’d be Wednesday before we’d be back at work.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“We can figure out about the texts and whatever later,” Finn says, putting his arm around Noah and pulling him against his chest. 

“Yeah,” Noah agrees. “K can order pizza for us and after they tell us how long it’ll be, we can set a timer.”

Kurt laughs. “I have a feeling I know where this is going. Any special requests – on the pizza, that is?”

“He wants all the pigs in all of Lima,” Finn says. He takes Noah’s chin in his hand and tilts his face up for a kiss. “Right?” he asks, after he moves his mouth away from Noah’s.

“Right,” Noah agrees, and Kurt shakes his head, smiling. He stands up and walks into the other room to place the order for pizza, then returns with a little smirk. 

“So they said it was going to be about forty-five minutes,” Kurt announces. “Should I start that timer now, baby?”

“Yeah, Puck thinks you should,” Finn says, running his hand down Noah’s chest to the waistband of his jeans, where he starts unfastening the button, then slides the zipper down and slips his hand inside the open front of the jeans. 

“I can see that.” Kurt does start the timer, setting his phone down and removing his own jeans before sitting back on the bed. “You don’t seem to have any objections, either.”

Noah laughs. “He doesn’t.” Kurt can hear Noah unzipping Finn’s jeans. “He really doesn’t.”

“Nope,” Finn agrees. After some tussling, both Finn and Noah’s jeans sail across the bed and onto the floor. Finn grabs Noah by both shoulders and pulls him down against him, Finn kissing him roughly. 

“Mmm, no.” Kurt watches the two of them kiss, Noah thrusting down against Finn. “This is a very nice view.”

“Not a bad one here either,” Noah says a few seconds later, turning his head to the side slightly. “You should check the view from closer.”

“Like this?” Kurt shifts towards them, lying on his side facing Finn and Noah. “Hmm. Yes. This is also superlative.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you superlative,” Finn says, reaching out with the arm that’s not around Noah to pull Kurt against them. He touches his lips to Kurt’s, barely letting the tip of his tongue flick against Kurt’s bottom lip. 

Kurt leans into the kiss, his upper arm going across Noah’s back, and he nods as he pulls back. “Oh, that I have no doubt about.”

“I have doubts,” Noah says, sounding grumpy. “I have doubts about beating that timer if you two don’t speed things up.”

“Hey, I’m stuck underneath _you_ ,” Finn says. “You speed things up!”

“You pulled me here,” Noah argues. 

“Yeah? And?” Finn counters. “Now you’re here, so quit bitching and fuck me.”

“Boys.” Kurt shakes his head. “Darling, bedside table?”

Finn removes his arm from Noah to grope for the bedside table without looking in its direction. He comes back with the lube and holds it in the air. “Got it!”

“I feel strangely like I’m at a football game. Way to take the snap,” Noah says with a snort, trying to grab the lube from Finn’s hand.

“I can call plays if you want, asshole, but the neighbors might complain,” Finn says, holding the bottle of lube a little higher. 

“Yeah? You got a page in the playbook for this?” Noah asks, still trying to reach up for the lube.

“He may not, but I do,” Kurt says, sitting up on his knees and plucking the lube from Finn’s hand. “Sorry, darling.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad, what just happened,” Finn says, not sounding like he’s particularly distressed by the turn of events. 

“Awful, even.” Noah holds his hand out expectantly. 

“Patience, baby,” Kurt says with a laugh, pouring a little onto his own fingers before passing the bottle to Noah. 

“I’m still trying to beat that timer,” Noah complains, but he takes the bottle and starts to turn it over as Kurt slides his hand along Noah’s back.

Finn moans, “Oh fuck,” and one of his legs wraps around Noah, his heel resting on Kurt. 

Kurt giggles. “I think that’s the plan, darling.” Kurt pushes both fingers into Noah, watching Noah’s back tense and then relax as Finn’s hands stay wrapped around Noah’s shoulders. 

“It is,” Noah agrees. “Fucking is definitely the plan right now.”

“Like this?” Kurt removes his fingers, using the remaining lube on them on his cock, then slowly pushes inside Noah. 

“Yep,” Noah says. “Darling?”

“Yes, fuck, just don’t stop,” Finn says. His other heel bumps against Kurt’s side. 

“Don’t have to worry about that,” Noah manages. 

Kurt’s fingers dig into Noah’s side, his other hand on top of Finn’s, and he thrusts slowly until they’re all moving together, then speeds up, the three of them rocking themselves and the mattress as well. 

“Beautiful,” Kurt says. “So beautiful, my loves.”

Kurt can feel Finn’s hand tighten on Noah’s shoulder. “Our baby,” Finn says. “Love you, Puck.”

“Love you,” Noah says, almost quietly. “Yours.”

“Always,” Kurt adds, responding to both of them, and he pushes into Noah harder, feeling Noah’s body starting to coil in. “Come for me, both of you.” 

Finn raises his fingers off Noah’s shoulder, interlacing them with Kurt’s, his grip tightening as he cries out underneath Noah. Noah shudders between them, his weight dead against Finn, and Kurt thrusts in a final time as he comes, barely holding himself up. 

“Mmm, good job,” Noah murmurs a few moments later. “We raced the pizza and we won.”

 

Noah wakes up early on Sunday, just like he was going to go to work. There are six hours before he has to even be at the synagogue, seven before anyone arrives to visit, and eight before the memorial service even starts. Everything is eerily done, waiting for the afternoon, and Noah knows he _could_ go back to sleep. He could, in that he doesn't have to be awake, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to, even if he tried.

Instead he lies there until the clock finally says 5:45, then crawls out from between Kurt and Finn. He can take the truck down to the Starbucks, get them all coffee, and be back before either of them even move, probably, and with that thought, Noah pulls on the first T-shirt he can find over yesterday's jeans. He scoops up Finn's keys and lets himself out of the room quietly.

The girl working looks bored and tired, and Noah can empathize with that attitude, though he barely remembers the sleepy Sunday mornings in Lima, now. "Bears fan?" she asks.

Noah frowns. "Huh?" Then he looks down and realizes he grabbed a Bears T-shirt, which still doesn't tell him whose it might be. "Oh. Yeah."

"Everyone in this town is now," the girl says, sounding jaded. "Let me guess, you started following the Bears last season."

"No." Noah rolls his eyes. "And even if I had, I'm pretty sure I'd be excused for it." He watches her make the drinks and resists the urge to critique her technique. He has to ask for a drink tray and shakes his head as he leaves. 

When he gets back to the hotel, everything is exactly the same as when he left, down to Kurt and Finn and their positions on the bed. He takes off his clothes, including the apparently-offensive Bears T-shirt, and puts the coffee on the two bedside tables before getting back in the middle of the bed. 

The morning passes exactly how Noah would have anticipated it. They all drink their coffee, eat breakfast, and get clean before getting dressed and sitting in the hotel room with too much time to spare. Even with sitting around, they still get there just after the rabbi, and Noah finds himself asking for a quiet room and a guitar, both of which the rabbi provides. 

"Send Hannah in here when she gets here?"

The rabbi nods—Noah can't remember his name, since he took over after they left for New York—and Noah fiddles with the guitar, sitting on a sofa with Finn and Kurt on either side. 

“I need about fifteen different ways to say ‘fine, thanks’,” Noah says as he tunes the guitar. “Or ‘thank you, fine’ for some variety.”

“You can try ‘gracias’ a few times,” Finn suggests. “I don’t remember the word for fine, though.”

“I knew I should have made more of an effort to remember Hebrew other than insults.” Noah sighs. “Okay, bet time.”

“What are we betting on?” Kurt asks, his head leaning on Noah’s shoulder. 

“How many friends of Mom’s or Nana’s express utter surprise about Hannah coming with us, ’cause you know they’re going to ask.”

“Fifteen,” Finn says. He puts his arm around Noah’s waist. “No, fourteen. One of them will forget you’re not still under eighteen.”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah, probably.”

“Also, at least two of the Knitzvahs will interrogate you about making sure you take Hannah every week and on High Holidays,” Kurt says wryly. 

“I think Nana was going to make a Facebook post about that,” Noah counters, grinning.

There’s a soft knock at the door, followed by Hannah’s voice saying. “It’s me.”

“Come on in, rabbit-squirrel,” Finn answers. 

Hannah pushes the door open, rolling her eyes, and sits down in front of them, more or less directly on top of Noah’s feet. “Oh, look, an elk. Be careful no one tries to hunt you.”

“I’m a majestic deer of the forest,” Finn says, tossing his head. “You wish you could be as majestic as me.”

“It’s a lifelong dream,” Hannah says flatly. “To be a deer like Finn.” She turns her head and smiles too-sweetly at him. 

“I could say so many things right now, but I won’t,” Noah muses.

Kurt laughs. “Probably best.”

“You’ll always be deer to me, squirrel-face,” Finn says. 

“That was a horrible pun, darling,” Kurt says with a sigh. He nudges Noah gently. “Going to play something?”

“Hmm.” Noah plucks out a few measures. “Don’t remember all the words.” He doesn’t remember the first two lines, in fact, but he starts to sing softly as he continues. “ _Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands the ones I love. Some folks just have one, yeah, others they got none. Stay with me. Let’s just breathe._ ” Noah continues through the song, singing when he can remember the words, Kurt and Finn humming on either side of him. When the song ends, Noah lifts his head slightly. “Any requests?”

“The really sad one that came out a year or two ago?” Hannah says, and Noah shakes his head, playing a few notes. 

“That one?”

“Yeah,” Hannah agrees. “That one.”

Noah plays through that song, then a third one, before there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah?”

“People are starting to arrive,” Nana says through the door, not opening it. 

“Thanks, Nana.” Noah puts the borrowed guitar to the side, then sighs. “I guess it’s time to go out there.”

Hannah stands up and turns around, hugging Noah suddenly, then hugging Kurt and Finn just as swiftly. “It’s just a little while,” she says, a sad smile on her face, and then she slips out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. 

“There should be chocolate in here or something.”

Finn silently reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a bag of M&Ms, handing them to Noah. Noah manages a grin and opens the bag, pouring a handful out and eating them before he stands up. 

Kurt stands beside him, taking his hand and squeezing it once before dropping it. “We know better than to leave you completely chocolate-less.”

Finn puts his arm around Noah’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug, draping his body around Noah’s for a moment before reluctantly releasing him. Noah takes a deep breath before speaking. “Let’s do this thing.”

Noah doesn’t recognize most of the people who are starting to filter in – they’re likely members of the synagogue that Noah just doesn’t remember, or people Rina worked with. One of the women that Noah thinks is a Knitzvah with Nana is talking to Hannah, talking a little too loudly, like she forgot to turn on her hearing aid. After another moment, the door opens again, and Shelby walks in with Beth. 

“Hi!” Beth says, a little subdued. She gives Noah a hug before giving Kurt and Finn each a hug, too. “Mom said she wasn’t sure if Audrey was coming or not.”

“Sorry, Beth,” Finn says. “My mom doesn’t think she’s old enough to be here. Maybe we can go see her after.”

“She’s not _that_ much younger than I am,” Beth says, sounding confused, but then she takes Noah’s hand and stands beside him. “Mom said I can stay with you, if that’s okay.”

Noah leans over and kisses the top of Beth’s head. “Yeah, I think that’s good,” he says. 

“I think I forgot to tell you,” Kurt says quietly. “Ben can’t make it. Something about flights.”

“Yeah, I didn’t figure he would.” Noah nods and then falls silent as more people enter. He ends up greeting people from the synagogue and being introduced to more Knitzvahs as well as one of Rina’s coworkers before Hannah walks over to him. 

“Noah, you remember Rebecca?”

“Bigger than the last time I think I actually saw her, yeah,” Noah jokes. 

“And these are Rebecca’s parents,” Hannah continues, gesturing to the man and woman standing behind Rebecca. 

“Rebecca tells us Hannah’s going to be moving to New York with you?” Rebecca’s mother says, offering her hand to Noah. “I hope they can keep in touch, still.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods. “I think they probably will.”

Rebecca’s dad offers his hand to Noah as well, then to Kurt, before he seems to notice Finn for the first time. “Well, you really are Finn Hudson,” he says, then chuckles at himself almost sheepishly. 

Finn extends his hand. “Yep. As far as they keep telling me, anyway,” he says, giving Rebecca’s dad’s hand a firm shake. 

He still looks a little awestruck until Rebecca pulls both of her parents away, whispering something to Hannah that Noah can’t make out. Noah shakes his head a little and drops his voice. 

“Downside to everyone moving, I guess,” Noah says to Kurt and Finn. “No one we know left here.”

“True,” Kurt admits. “There’s a few people coming in, though.”

Finn looks towards the synagogue door and nods his head once in greeting. “I see Sam.”

“A miniature NFL players’ meeting,” Kurt says amusedly. 

Sam walks over and gives Noah a side hug, offering Finn his hand afterwards. “Hey,” Sam says finally. “Been a little while.”

“Well, last time I saw you, you beat my team up so bad, it hurt my feelings,” Finn says, giving Sam a smile. 

Sam laughs for a moment. “Yeah, I guess it would’ve.” Sam shakes his head and gives Kurt the same side hug he gave Noah. “I’d say I’m sorry and all that, but it’s sort of empty words,” Sam says to Noah. 

“And it saves me from figuring out a response,” Noah replies wryly. “Thanks for making the trip, though.”

“No problem.” Sam looks down at Beth then, and offers his hand. “Hi, I’m Sam. I bet I can guess your name.”

Beth giggles and shakes her head. “Okay!”

Sam proceeds through a ridiculous number of impressions and made-up names before he grins and says “Beth?” which sends Beth into another spate of giggles. Sam moves aside as another group of older Jewish women approach, and Noah spends another five or ten minutes thanking them for coming and pretending to appreciate their reminiscing about things they apparently remember from when Noah was a kid. 

“No one’s yet accused him of being fifteen still,” Kurt says to Finn. 

“It’s probably coming. Just wait,” Finn answers.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Noah says, smirking a little at Finn. It probably should feel harder than it does, Noah thinks, but this is for everyone else, really. Not for him, not for Hannah, and not much for Nana. 

Allison, V2, and Zachary all arrive at the same time, though Zachary seems considerably less stoned than usual. Noah would even guess that Zachary might not be stoned at all, which would explain the somewhat baffled look on his face. Allison and V2 take turns hugging all of them and patting Noah sympathetically. 

“Bet you never thought you’d end up in Lima, Ohio,” Noah points out wryly.

“I’m not exactly sure how we got here,” Zachary confesses. “I don’t know what airport we flew into or what highway we drove on.”

“It’s probably not worth remembering,” Noah says. “Except for having to leave again. I guess you’ll need to be able to backtrack.”

“I’m sure we’ll make it back,” V2 says with a small grin, and both she and Allison give Noah another hug before they continue on. Beth watches all of them, waving a little, and Noah can feel her pressing against his legs. 

“Do you know everyone here, Daddy?” Beth whispers.

Noah shakes his head. “No, some people know Aunt Hannah, or my Nana, or they just knew my mom.” Mike and Tina come in next, another flurry of hugs and, as Sam said, empty words, and Noah resists the urge to check the time. Probably about twenty or thirty minutes left before the service starts, and then. Well, there’s probably more food and more making conversation at Burt and Carole’s, but the point is that in a few hours, it’ll just be Noah and Kurt and Finn in the hotel room again, and Noah keeps focusing on that. 

There aren’t a lot of people, but enough that at least Nana and Hannah won’t look around and wonder why there’s not more people there, and that’s good. Kurt quietly whispers that there’s about ten minutes left when Noah looks up and almost starts, admittedly a little surprised to see Artie and Lauren both enter. The two of them wave and then head out of the room without much comment, gesturing to the clock. Noah nods and gives them a bit of a smile, and he turns to Kurt. 

“Do we have to go in yet?”

“Mmm, probably just in a minute,” Kurt says quietly. “Almost everyone else is.” 

Noah is about to squat down and explain to Beth that they have to be quiet, just in case Shelby didn’t or in case Beth wasn’t listening, when the door opens a final time and Rachel walks in with her dads. Noah sighs and squeezes Beth’s shoulder, and he can hear Kurt exhale. Finn gives Noah and Kurt a quick glance, his eyebrows slightly raised, and Kurt inclines his head forward minutely, his nostrils flaring. 

Finn responds with a faint nod of his head, then walks towards Rachel and her dads. “Hey, Rach,” he says, putting one arm around her and giving her a perfunctory hug before shaking first Hiram’s and then Leroy’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course, of course,” Hiram says, even before Rachel can start to speak. “Terrible tragedy, and—”

“Daddy!” Rachel interrupts Hiram with a glance that Noah doesn’t even care to interpret. Noah isn’t sure what changed with Rachel or exactly when, but her attitude with Finn and about Finn is much less ‘doing Finn a favor’ and much more ‘in it to win it’ over the last few months. “Later, if you must.”

“Who’s that?” Beth asks Noah. “Is that a friend of Uncle Finn’s?”

“Yeah, that’s a friend of ours, Rachel,” Noah answers her. “She lives in New York, too.”

Beth nods, satisfied with Noah’s answer, and Noah can hear Rachel talking to Finn, even though in theory she seems to be trying to lower her voice. “Finn, who’s that little girl with Noah and Kurt?”

“That’s Beth,” Finn says, his tone suggesting it should be obvious. “Shelby brought her.”

“That’s _Beth_?” Rachel still seems to be trying to keep her voice down, but Noah can hear her clearly, and he rolls his eyes a little, which makes Kurt snicker briefly. “But— oh my goodness. I had no idea that Noah had any contact with her!”

“Yeah, for a long time now,” Finn explains. “Look, we can talk more about it after, ok? I’ve got to get back to Puck and Hannah.”

“Oh, right, of course!” Rachel agrees, and she and her dads practically scurry out of the room, until the only people left to go in are the four of them, Hannah, and Nana. 

“It’s only an hour,” Noah says, more to himself than anyone else, but Hannah looks at him and nods, her movements a little too fast and a little too jerky. 

“Exactly,” Kurt agrees, taking Noah’s hand. Finn puts out his arm for Nana to take, then wraps his other arm around Hannah. They make a strange sort of procession up to the front row, where Beth plunks herself down on one of Noah’s legs and one of Kurt’s, and Finn sits down on the other side of Noah, Hannah nestled under Finn’s arm and Nana next to Hannah. The rabbi comes over and says something to Nana, nodding at Noah, and then goes up to the front to begin. 

Noah can feel himself relax against Finn and Kurt. He’s already said his goodbyes, but he knows Hannah needs this, and probably Nana too. For Noah, though, it’s just another formality. Finn’s hand curls around Noah’s, and Noah lets himself smile a little, despite the occasion. Just one more hour. 

 

Kurt flips down the passenger side visor, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes as the truck drives more or less west. After the packed nature of Sunday afternoon, including the hours at his dad’s with Carole continually offering food to everyone, Monday morning had seemed almost anticlimactic. Check out of the hotel, say goodbye to Audrey and Hannah before school, go through a few more documents, and then a late lunch with Burt and Carole before climbing back into Finn’s truck and heading back towards the Toledo airport. 

“Anytime we come to Lima, it feels like being stuck in a time warp,” Noah says suddenly. “Doesn’t matter _why_ we’re here, just anytime we are.”

“Like it could be years ago, or like the rest of the world doesn’t have any days pass while we’re here?” Kurt asks, because either feels possible. 

“Yeah, either of those,” Noah says. “You feel that way, darling?”

Finn shakes his head. “It feels like being on some kind of alien planet. It doesn’t really feel anything like before to me.”

“That’s probably not a good tourism slogan,” Kurt says thoughtfully, “but I can see it, I suppose.”

“Alien planet populated by beans, that’s Lima,” Noah jokes. 

“Every time I come back, it’s like I realize I’ve remembered something about it wrong,” Finn explains. “Like something’s in a different place than I remembered it being, or somebody’s voice sounds different from how I thought it sounded. Every time I come back, it’s a little bit less what I thought it was.”

Kurt nods a little, though he understands what Noah means slightly more. Nothing seems to change, and yet, of course things change. They change, and their perception alters. 

“I could almost just… not come back,” Noah admits. “I mean, yeah, there’s a few reasons, but not as many.”

Finn nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess not.”

Nothing seems out of the ordinary when Finn parks at the Toledo airport fifteen minutes later. Kurt and Noah climb out of the truck, and Finn grabs their bags, throwing them over one shoulder. Finn drapes his arm across Noah’s shoulders, brushing fingertips over Kurt’s shoulder. 

“It’s only a couple of weeks,” Kurt says softly as they walk. “That’s not so bad.”

“And then white sand,” Finn says in agreement. 

“And the answer to the all important question,” Noah says, grinning. “What color and how short this year?”

Kurt smirks a little and shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll just have to wait and see, still.”

“Bring it,” Finn says. 

They walk into the airport and it takes Kurt a few seconds to register what’s happening. There’s a shout of some kind, and then lights flashing, one after another, before Kurt realizes that for whatever reason, the paparazzi knew to stake out the Toledo airport. “God, it must be a slow news day,” he says, rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses he hasn’t even had a chance to remove.

“Shit,” Finn mutters, then raises his voice to say, “Not today, guys. Come on.” He takes a step so he’s directly behind Noah, his body between Noah’s and the paparazzi, one arm hovering protectively behind Kurt. 

“Bluebird!” one of them yells over the sound of the cameras. “Hey, Bluebird, just one shot of you and your brothers?”

Finn doesn’t acknowledge the request verbally, though he presses closer to Noah, effectively rendering it impossible for anyone to catch Noah for a photograph. Kurt changes his own angle, knowing he’s not as effective of a block, but the fact that Noah did end up shorter than the two of them is coming in handy. The three of them make it to the security line and then Kurt sighs, noticing that they’re finally dropping back, seemingly unwilling to take a chance on angering the security staff.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Finn says, sighing. “I don’t know why they’re here. How do they even know?”

“Probably someone in Lima,” Kurt says. “It’s not your fault, darling.”

“No, it’s not,” Noah immediately echoes Kurt. “They’re just desperate, I guess.”

The security line is too short, and soon they’re at the point of ticketed passengers only. “I love you,” Finn says quietly. “I love you both. Call me when you land?”

“Love you too, darling,” Kurt says, giving Finn a hug. If the paparazzi are still waiting, they can make whatever they want of it. “We will.”

Kurt steps back and Noah moves towards Finn, hugging him and murmuring something Kurt can’t quite make out. Finn shifts them both so that his back is to the paparazzi, and Kurt can see him whisper something into Noah’s ear and then kiss just below it. 

“Drive safe,” Noah says as he steps back. 

“Always do,” Finn says, mustering up a small smile for Noah. “Once more unto the breach or whatever.” With that, he turns and heads back out of the security line. Kurt watches the paparazzi approach Finn, and he pivots with a sigh. 

“Guess we’ll see those later,” Noah says wryly, and Kurt nods. Undoubtedly, they will. 

 

LaGuardia looks the same as it always does when they arrive. There’s no paparazzi interested in them, though Noah spots a group of them out of the corner of his eye, and like always at LaGuardia, there’s no one waiting for them. They claim their luggage and find their bus, sinking into the seats as the city darkens around them. 

Noah looks at their neighborhood a little differently as they walk from the train to the apartment. It’s a relatively quiet neighborhood and they’ve always seen people with kids of various ages around, so it’s not like Hannah will be the only person under eighteen around. The apartment, though; there’s no way they can stay in their apartment. 

There’s also no way they can defer their second year of grad school and go to Chicago for a year or so. “Guess the decision about next year is made,” Noah says as Kurt checks the mail. 

“Yes.” Kurt sighs and shoves some of the mail in his bag and the rest in the trash. “We can’t really drag Hannah to Chicago for a year or two and then back to New York for the rest of high school. I imagine her transition will already be difficult enough. For all of us.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Finn ever thought about the need to check on school districts when he looked for the apartment in Chicago,” Noah says with a snort. They’re going to have to make so many changes. Kurt unlocks the door and they drop all their luggage in a pile, which tells Noah a lot about Kurt’s state of mind. Noah goes to fiddle with the thermostat and looks around for Ennis before he remembers that he’s still at the boarding place.

“No.” Kurt shakes his head and pulls out his phone. “Do you think Finn’s back in Chicago yet?”

“Probably at least close,” Noah says, nodding, and Kurt dials the number for the disposable phone they insisted Finn buy on the way to the Toledo airport, and then hits speaker. 

“Hey, you guys,” Finn says, answering quickly. “Almost back to the apartment. You home?”

“We are,” Kurt answers. “No potholes. Figuratively speaking.”

“Yeah, I hit a couple of those literally speaking,” Finn says. “No figurative ones, though. Ennis survive you being gone?”

“We’ll pick him up from the boarding place tomorrow,” Noah says. “They’ll probably give him too many treats in the morning, so he should like that.”

“Hope he’ll be able to survive having a new little sister,” Finn says. “Hannah’ll probably spoil him rotten, too, though. The two of you are just alike.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Noah retorts. “I would never.”

“Actually, you would, baby,” Kurt says, grinning at him. 

“I see how it is, you two are plotting against me.”

“We’re just worried about Ennis’s health, dude,” Finn says. “We don’t want him to have a little kitty heart attack or anything.”

“I think the vet would let us know if that was a concern,” Noah points out.

“He doesn’t want to hurt poor Ennis’s feelings, ’cause he’s so touchy about his weight,” Finn counters. They can hear the sound of a car door slamming. “And here I am, back in beautiful sunny Chicago. Where it’s raining. And the sun is setting.”

“At least you got the Chicago portion correct,” Kurt says with a laugh. “Have fun at your safe schools thing on Wednesday.”

“The part with the kids is always fun, at least,” Finn says. He sighs, and it’s followed by the sound of a door closing. “Miss you guys already. Ready for Pensacola.”

“I hear you,” Noah says, overlapping with Kurt’s almost wistful “yeah.”

“We miss you too, darling,” Kurt continues after a moment. “Order in some Thai food and we’ll do the same.”

“Naked FaceTime with Thai food?” Finn asks. 

Noah grins. “Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Won’t be the last,” Finn answers. “Give me thirty minutes to unpack and order.”

“Sounds about right,” Kurt agrees. “Be good, darling.”

“I’m always good, you guys.”

Kurt ends the call and immediately orders their food, glaring at the luggage the entire time he’s on the phone. He tosses his phone onto one of the laptop tables and sinks onto the futon with a sigh. 

“It pretty much sucks,” Noah says succinctly. “Or it’s all going to, anyway.” He pulls off his blazer and then his T-shirt, because only one of them has to have pants for the delivery guy. 

“A bit, yes.” Kurt pulls Noah down beside them and they sit in silence for a few minutes before Kurt speaks again. “I don’t know if it would have been the right decision, but it would have made some things much easier.”

“Yeah.” Noah sighs and leans his head against Kurt’s shoulder. “It would have been complicated, but it would have been nice, too. Now we’ve got an entire other set of issues on top of, well, everything else.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Kurt says, trying to sound optimistic. “We’ll just take one issue at a time. Starting Wednesday.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, we need tomorrow just to sleep.”

The Thai food arrives twenty-five minutes after they disconnected the call with Finn, but they don’t have anything unpacked yet. As soon as the delivery guy leaves, Noah finishes getting naked and then sets out the food while Kurt takes his clothes off, and then they call Finn again, this time on the iPad via FaceTime. 

“Hey, you guys!” Finn says. He’s also naked and holding a carton of food, sitting cross-legged on the bed, a plastic cup with a straw balanced precariously on one knee. Noah knows that if they asked Finn what was in the cup, he’d say it was Thai iced tea. Noah also knows that it’s probably more booze than tea, which is why they don’t ask. If they don’t ask, Finn won’t lie to them. They know the truth anyway. 

“Hi,” Kurt and Noah end up saying at the same time, which makes Noah snort amusedly. “What’d you order today?” Noah asks, gesturing at the carton in Finn’s hand.

“Gaeng pah curry,” Finn says. “Extra beef.”

“You know what we have,” Kurt says. “If we ever change our Thai order, you should probably make sure we haven’t been brainwashed by a cult or something.”

“I’ll have to switch back to something a little less spicy when I’m in New York,” Finn offers. “Don’t want to burn you up.”

Noah nods, chewing, and the two of them watch Finn eat and drink the booze-tea combination. It’s possible Finn had a drink between when they talked to him on the phone and when they started FaceTiming, but again, neither Kurt nor Noah asks. When Finn gets up after a bit to refill his cup, Noah exchanges a glance with Kurt. If they were there, they could just stop him, either right away or after the second cup of booze-tea combination, but they aren’t there, so how can they say anything? At best it would sound like nagging; at worst it would sound like they were really like everyone else in Finn’s life, thinking he was somewhat incompetent. They aren’t there, and they won’t be there, not now, and Noah suddenly feels like he’s back at the end of their freshman year of undergrad, when the whole ‘package deal’ first started.

Three more years.


	5. Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She really meant to stick the deal, until she got a glimpse of the life that she could have. [September 2016 - January 2018]

It’s only a few weeks into Finn’s first season in Chicago when Rachel is recognized for the first time. It isn’t an audition, which is somewhat disappointing, but it is in New York, which is encouraging. Rachel’s grabbing lunch at her favorite vegan deli when a woman stops her. “Hey, are you Rachel Berry?”

“I am!” Rachel answers, smiling widely. The more that stories of her friendly nature spread, the more potential directors and producers will think of her as an actress who gets along with her castmates. Every day that Rachel steps outside of her tiny apartment, she views it as an audition. She varies her hair and makeup, to show she can portray period pieces and different roles with ease. She maintains a smile on her face, despite the scowls she sometimes receives in return. She dresses impeccably, networks with everyone at her dance class, and practices singing as much as possible. The neighbors above her object to singing between certain hours, which does curtail her practice time; when the weather permits, she goes to Bryant Park or even Central Park and practices there. 

“I saw your picture online last week,” the woman continues. “It’s so nice you and Bluebird are making a long-distance relationship work.”

Rachel maintains her smile, even though she hates that ridiculous nickname. Bluebird! “Yes, it’s a bit of effort,” she answers, “but this way we can both pursue our dreams.”

“Of course, of course, you’re an actress.” The woman picks up her sandwich and nods once at Rachel. “Have a nice day.”

“Thank you! You too!” Rachel’s smile isn’t fixed or faked at all as she sits down with her own portobello sandwich with roasted red pepper hummus. If someone outside of the theatre world has recognized her, it’s just a matter of days, weeks perhaps, before things start to pay off inside _her_ world.

 

Becoming the fiancée of an NFL player isn’t that different than being the girlfriend of an NFL player, especially since Rachel isn’t really Finn’s girlfriend or his fiancée. It’s a mutual deal that’s paying off nicely. One of the big jewelry companies in Chicago had been very happy to donate the ring in exchange for their logo on the Jumbotron and a mention of their role whenever the engagement was brought up. It’s a beautiful ring that suits her hand well, and Rachel likes to admire it. Finn seemed less enthusiastic about it, almost like he was being forced into doing it, but the suggestion was a good one. He didn’t even have to pay for the ring! They’re seen now as having a relationship that’s progressing nicely, and Finn can concentrate on his playing and his charitable endeavors. Rachel isn’t sure how he’s going to have much left at the end of his contract, since he seems so free with his charitable donations. She knows he does commercials for a few things as well, but Rachel doesn’t see how they could pay that much. Models don’t get paid but a pittance for most commercials, a fact she discovered when she investigated modeling as an avenue to increase visibility. 

Still, she has a ring on her finger, and more publicity, and even though she and Finn don’t plan on there being a wedding, she still needs to appear to be planning for a wedding. They’ll stage a dramatic breakup, somewhere around the end of Finn’s second season, Rachel imagines; he can take a year or so to ‘recover’ from their no-doubt devastating breakup and then he’ll be almost finished with his contract, and that should make everyone happy. She can move on and find someone else to actually date, without being seen as a cheater, a ring and free publicity richer. 

When Rachel reads about the annual running of the brides happening in February, though, and mentions it offhandedly to her daddy, she realizes it’s the perfect opportunity for all of them. She quickly enlists Kurt and Noah in her scheme, so they can help her find a dress, lend legitimacy to any press coverage, and also help her make sure her dads stay in the dark a bit longer. 

 

Rachel has a wonderful time at the running of the brides. Kurt makes her wear warm tights, a strapless corset-like bra, a cardigan, and a long coat over all of it. Daddy carries the white heels she switches for her boots as soon as they get inside, and she quickly strips off the coat and cardigan, too. 

Kurt helps her try on dresses and Noah takes pictures, because after all, it’s a show, and what’s the point of this, of deceiving even her dads, if there aren’t pictures and publicity. She knows they’ll understand, eventually, once there’s been a dramatic break-up with lots and lots of exposure for her. She’s already had a few people recognize her at auditions, which means that her side of the deal is starting to pay off. 

It only takes ten minutes for her to find a lovely dress, and Kurt holds onto it while Rachel pulls on her cardigan and coat again, buttoning both all the way. No one would ever guess she had been nearly naked minutes earlier, especially not after she puts her warm boots back on. Her dads pay for her dress, and apparently Noah’s efforts of earlier in the morning and even the previous night have yielded results – there are two members of the paparazzi outside, and they ask Rachel why she did the running of the brides. 

“Surely your fiancé could afford for you to get the most expensive of dresses?”

Rachel laughs. “My dads have insisted this wedding be as traditional as possible, and that includes the bride’s family paying for the wedding dress.” When it comes time to actually secure vendors, if they get that far, she’ll have to figure out a different plan, but the dress – she can wear the dress at any wedding she might have. “Plus I’ve always wanted to do this! It was so much fun.”

Noah and Kurt smile and wave at her before heading off to their jobs, and her dads insist on stopping for a warm coffee, her dress draped over an extra chair. They’ll understand, she knows they will. 

 

The dress taunts her. Every time she goes into her closet, there it is. She has a moment of excitement, thinking of how she looked in it, and then she remembers that she won’t be wearing it for her wedding, not anytime soon. The wedding won’t actually happen, or even if she gets dressed in it, she’s not actually getting married. She’s still doing Finn a favor, keeping rumors away from him while he concentrates on his career. 

But the dress – the dress taunts her. It’s easy to close her eyes and picture herself and Finn under a chuppah. Carole might like for it to be an interfaith wedding, of course, but no one would begrudge Rachel a beautiful chuppah, covered in flowers. A bouquet that matches for her, and a splendid white boutonnière for Finn. It’s easy to picture how they would look, dancing their first dance together. Of course, that’s not part of ‘the deal’ that Kurt presented her with, that she’s been doing for nearly two years, but the more she sees the dress, the more she thinks ‘why not?’

Why shouldn’t she get to marry Finn? When they do see each other, they have a good time. He’s funny and charming, and they once were in love. Why couldn’t they be again? Why shouldn’t she try it, make a stab at a real relationship with Finn? He’s not dating anyone else. She knows how not to be too demanding during the season or when he has other commitments. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t see if she and Finn could be something real, instead of something manufactured. 

 

In May, she offers to come out to Lima more quickly, to be there for Finn, and that is rebuffed. When Finn is in New York for part of June, she tries three different times to do something with him that isn’t staged and isn’t with Kurt and Noah. He turns her down all three times, seemingly without even realizing her intent. She isn’t sure how she can get Finn to look at her and see someone that he might want to date for real again; the problem is that for her, she’s well on her way to viewing their relationship as real. 

She enjoys his company so much during their excursions. Yes, he drinks a little too much, but he isn’t violent when he’s drunk. They can laugh together and they enjoy so many similar things; Rachel knows she’s always told herself that she was over Finn. By the time she arrived in New York for her freshman year at Juilliard, she was firmly convinced that all of her feelings for Finn were in the past. She had still thought that when she first agreed to their staged dating, and maybe she was right. Maybe those feelings truly were all gone then, and new ones are in their place now. 

Rachel doesn’t know which is it or if it really matters which one it is. The truth is, either way, she’s in love with Finn Hudson, and she realizes that she definitely wants to marry him, not break up with him in some kind of staged scene. Now she just needs Finn to realize that he wants to marry her. 

 

By January, Rachel convinces Finn, Noah, and Kurt that the better plan is not to break up before the wedding, but on the day of. Just before the wedding, and Rachel thinks this gives her another four months for Finn to realize how well-suited they are for each other. It also is actually better for the scheme, as well. It's later in the year, and a dramatic breakup on the day of his wedding would surely take Finn longer to recover from. Rachel's sure that it would get the rumors, whatever they might be, off Finn's back for the two seasons he has remaining. 

Rachel flies out to Chicago to see Finn just a few weeks later, and after dinner at Maestros there are drinks at Sector. By the time Rachel convinces Finn to leave and climb into a taxi, Finn's drunk enough that he doesn't seem to be aware of what they're doing. 

Noah and Kurt never did take her seriously when she brought up Finn’s drinking, not until after Finn was already in Chicago, and now they won’t discuss it. If she tries to bring it up, they make an exaggerated show of thinking people are listening, and they never seem to be around her when it’s not theoretically possible. Still, Rachel’s not a fool. She knows Finn drinks heavily and does so regularly, just like he is this particular evening. 

When the taxi arrives at Finn's apartment, Rachel walks him up to the building and then motions for the taxi to wait as she follows him up to the third floor. Outside his door, he drops his keys, and Rachel bends to get them. "Here," she says softly, pressing them into his palm. She raises up on her toes and presses her lips against Finn's, and while he doesn't return the kiss, he doesn't push her away either. Rachel steps away and waits for him to finally unlock the apartment before she turns and walks down the stairs. 

She doesn't know what that meant, but it wasn't an outright no, and as she climbs into the waiting taxi, she can feel her heartbeat speed up. It feels like it's talking to her: _maybe, maybe, maybe_.


	6. Distance and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musicals, learning new skills, an unexpected encounter, and a very important new word. [August 31, 2016 - May 22, 2018]

"Before we continue, we need to give you each a packet with the schedule for the rest of the semester, especially since you need to know your advisors before meeting with them this afternoon!" The man speaking, who identified himself as Caleb Thomas, the acting head of the graduate musical theatre writing program, looks like he’s forgotten they aren’t currently performing for an audience. There's twenty-four of them sitting in the room listening to him, and the fact that Noah and Kurt both got into the program is something, at least, the way Noah figures it.

Two of the other faculty members stand up and start calling out names, though they aren't in alphabetical order. Noah figures it's probably composers versus bookwriters, since it seems like lyricists usually do one or the other of the other two as well, but it doesn't take long for a slight problem to present itself.

"Hummel?"

Noah exchanges a grin with Kurt, then raises his voice. "Which one?"

"Excuse me?"

"Which Hummel? ’Cause there's two of us."

"Oh." The woman looks down a second time. "Noah."

Noah stands up and walks up to take the packet with a smile. "That's me."

"I have the other Hummel," the other faculty member says, and Kurt claims his before the faculty members divide them into three groups, which apparently will be their tutorial groups for music and playwriting. It doesn't take Noah long to realize that despite the fact that his packet says 'Noah Hummel', he's definitely in the wrong group, and he looks over at Kurt to find him smiling wryly.

"I think you got us mixed up," Noah says quietly to the woman who had his packet. "I mean, yeah, I'm Noah, but I'm not the words guy."

"And I don't write the music," Kurt says, approaching from the other side.

"But you're Kurt," she says, looking at Kurt, who nods. "But you… don't write music?"

"Nope, that's me." Noah laughs. "We knew it'd be confusing but we didn't realize just how confusing."

The woman takes out a piece of paper and changes something, then her phone and does something else, before sending Noah to the group Kurt had been with and vice versa. They finish discussing the differing focus in each tutorial group, or at least the theoretical differences. Since Noah heard part of the discussion from two different groups, he isn’t completely convinced that their focus will be all _that_ different. There’s a ten-minute lull while all twenty-four of them wait on someone from some other department to do a general introduction to NYU, and while they wait, one of the girls—her nametag isn’t visible to Noah—sitting nearby turns to Noah and Kurt.

“So are you two brothers or something?”

Kurt shakes his head, smiling faintly. “No, we’re married.”

“Ohh.” She looks almost sheepish. “Sorry!”

A guy sitting almost halfway around the circle starts laughing. “You almost accused them of incest, Stephanie!” he says, clearly enjoying must-be-Stephanie’s discomfort.

“I’m so sorry!” she says to Noah and Kurt, who shake their heads.

“Just ignore him,” Noah suggests, laughing a little at the idea that they’d be horrified by pseudo-incest.

“Okay,” Stephanie agrees, and the guy loses interest when he can tell that none of them are getting upset or otherwise reacting.

“We should all introduce ourselves again,” another guy says slowly. “They only had us say our names earlier. We should talk about where we’re from, what our undergraduate training is in, and that sort of thing.”

"I agree," another girl swiftly seconds. "Do you want to start?"

"No, I'll go last," the first guy says, like he's doing them all a favor, but Noah can't figure out why he would be.

The introductions turn more towards undergrad degrees and where people are living than anything else. It comes around to Kurt before Noah.

"I'm Kurt. Hummel, as I think everyone is now aware. I did my undergraduate work at Marymount Manhattan here in the city, with concentrations in writing for the stage and performing, and a minor in musical theatre performance. We live in the lower 70s on the Upper West Side."

"What he said about where we live," Noah says. "I'm Noah, and I went to Mannes for composition."

"How did you meet?" Stephanie asks.

Noah startles and exchanges a glance with Kurt. "I guess you could say there are a lot of answers to that question," Noah says slowly. "The quick version is we grew up in the same town and went to the same high school."

"The longer version includes Beyonce, show choir, and our brother," Kurt continues. "And probably would take too long since we're only halfway through the introductions."

They continue around the circle until they get back to the first guy, who'd offered to wait until the end. "I'm Peter Gavitt, and I did my undergraduate work in composition at the Juilliard School. I've also been fortunate enough to secure an apartment in Chelsea." Noah can tell by the smug way he says all of this that Peter thinks Chelsea is the best possible neighborhood in Manhattan, and that no other school could possibly compare to Juilliard. He probably is good, even excellent, since he was admitted to the program, but Noah spares a moment to be thankful that the program never requires composer collaboration. That had been difficult enough with Allison and Ben. Of course, during the first year, Noah knows they'll sometimes be randomly assigned collaborative groups, which means Kurt could have to work with Peter, and he winces sympathetically in advance.

"During our dinner break, we can all go to the same place," Stephanie says enthusiastically. "I want to hear more about the city from all of you that have been here for a few years already."

Noah exchanges a laugh with Kurt as the Peter dude immediately starts into some kind of soliloquy about "his" New York. Yeah, everyone seems cool, as long as they avoid Peter.

 

By November, Noah is relieved that the lab featuring duets is one where they choose their own collaborative partner or partners. It's not that he and Kurt can't work with other people, but they're so used to working with each other that the assignments they do together get finished more quickly and are, in Noah’s opinion, of higher quality.

Duets are something they can do easily and well, and even sneak in a little work on one of their own projects under the guise of an assignment. Near the end of the first lab period focused on duets, everyone shares their ideas and progress, as they usually do, and Kurt and Noah end up going second.

"Yeah, we're working on a falling-in-lust scenario," Noah says with a grin.

"For what parts?"

"Tenor and baritone," Kurt answers. "Neither is very tentative about what they're doing, mind you. Self-aware and self-confident lusting."

"Is a same-sex duet going to be featured in a commercially viable musical?" Amanda asks. "Experimental theatre, sure, but look at things like _bare_."

The lab facilitators tend not to answer those kind of questions, looking instead for the creators to "elaborate on their process", which means everyone looks at Noah and Kurt.

"Hmm," Kurt says slowly. "It's true that many of the top draws don't feature same-sex duets that are anything but platonic. However, many is not the same as all or none." He glances at Noah and starts to hum softly.

Noah stifles the urge to laugh and hums along for a few bars until they both start singing. “ _I think they meant it, when they said you can't buy love, now I know you can rent it. A new lease you are, my love, on life — be my life_.”

Amanda looks sheepish and a couple of the others chuckle, but not meanly. Peter looks put out, but then he pretty much always looks put out unless someone’s praising him.

“ _RENT_ didn’t do too shabby,” Noah says. “Granted, not everything’s a _RENT_ , but that can be said of plenty of shows that just have opposite-sex duets.” He laughs. “Trust me, I could name quite a few that we’ve seen. Starting with January of 2013 and _Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark_.”

There’s scattered laughter, and even Peter chuckles once or twice before falling silent. “That’s a good point, though,” the facilitator says, and the phrase ‘commercially viable’ gets scrawled across the whiteboard at the front of the room, the only one without at least one set of staff lines on it. “After everyone discusses their work, let’s come back to this idea.”

And they do, with Peter leading the discussion. “I’m not at all interested in creating commercially viable works,” he says. “I realize that financially it may be something of a strain, but there are always markets for true art, and while households might not know the name ‘Peter Gavitt’, I feel confident that my work will be respected amongst those with a true appreciation for art.”

There’s a murmur, and a few people seem to agree with Peter. “What about the limited exposure?” Kurt asks. “If something isn’t at least somewhat commercially viable, how will an appreciative theatregoer who isn’t located in New York City or a regional theatre hub be aware of the work you’re producing?”

Peter shrugs. “I suppose they won’t, but it’s not really my concern.”

“See, I think you have to consider the scope of your audience,” Noah admits. “It’s fine to do experimental theatre and all of that, but there’s nothing _wrong_ with producing a work that has a wider audience. You could argue it’s a necessity to have works that appeal to a broad audience, in a way.”

“Are you speaking of tourists?” Peter asks.

“Tourists, sure, that’s important. And giving people something to aspire to.”

“I bet you even like movies of musicals,” Peter says, almost scornfully.

“Sure do.” Noah grins unrepentantly. “In most cases, they only make the viewer want to see the musical produced on stage. They bring great music to people who would never make it to a touring show, much less New York. Should the directors and cast make every attempt to produce _excellent_ movies of musicals? Absolutely. But I’m not going to fall into the trap of ‘no musical should be a movie ever’. It’s limiting and elitist.” And yeah, Noah realizes he sounds preachy, or at the very least up on a soapbox, but it’s all true, and as much as he’s come to love the experience of sitting in a Broadway theatre, waiting for the curtain to rise and the pit orchestra to tune their instruments, he knows it’s not even possible for some people, and he’s never been able to tolerate elitism.

A few more people chime in, though as Noah expects, the class divides along a line of about two-thirds in favor of eschewing commercial viability and distribution, with another third of them more or less falling on Noah’s side of things. The discussion continues even when the lab is over, and the other five that agree with Noah and Kurt end up joining them at the Cozy Soup ‘n’ Burger during the hour before ‘Source Material’ starts up.

“You started a little firestorm,” Kurt muses as they head back down the street.

Noah laughs. “Yeah, and all I wanted was to end the discussion and get my bacon and blue cheese burger a little faster. I think I failed.”

Kurt shrugs. “At least you still got the burger. What else can you hope for on a Monday?”

 

Noah sometimes looks up from whatever assignment they're doing and watches Kurt. It was Kurt's decision to go to Tisch and not Steinhardt, to keep going in grad school and not immediately start auditioning, but Noah can't help but wonder if he ever regrets it. 

V2 went to her first audition two weeks before Marymount's graduation, and now, less than a year later, the show she landed while it was workshopping is playing previews. Not off-Broadway, Broadway itself, and the initial buzz on _Revival_ is good, even if Noah thinks it's a weird title and even weirder subject matter. V2 isn't in the leading role, but she's not just part of the company, either, and Noah can admit he likes to mention it in Rachel's presence. 

Zachary's auditioning and working in a restaurant and still getting high, and while Noah knows Kurt doesn't particularly want to get high, he can see where there's camaraderie between Zachary and others in the same position. Even Jamie, who finished up at Wisconsin in four years and gave up his last year of eligibility to move to New York and start going to auditions, is more a part of that crowd than Kurt is now. The group of them in their program at Tisch is small to begin with; the number of them that are in fact also performers is much, much smaller. 

Sure, Kurt's going to go to a few auditions after the first year of the program is finished, probably, but between grad school, work, and the dance and voice classes Kurt's still taking, it doesn't leave a lot of room for auditions or rehearsals. They're already running at an insane pace, though less so than they were in the fall, and Noah can't even picture adding one more thing. 

He can't make the numbers work without Kurt's income, though, no matter how much he's looked at it, and everything seems equally non-negotiable. The stupid, awful truth is that Kurt could probably go to Burt, explain the situation, and Burt would probably send them money, so Kurt could audition and not have to work, or not work as many hours. It's stupid and awful because Burt is still the same man that told Finn he and Carole couldn't help with the cost of grad school for Finn. It's stupid and awful because that was a lie, and now Finn's stuck in the NFL for three more seasons. It's stupid and awful because Noah knows Kurt won't do it, even if it came to a point that he should. The entire mess is just that, a mess, and that's why Noah stares at Kurt, hoping they didn't make a mistake on top of all the other decisions that have been made. 

Noah knows that when they do see Finn, he hands a wad of cash to Kurt, and Kurt pockets it and doesn't say a word. Extra cash turns up in the kitchen, next to the takeout menus, and Kurt buys the groceries more often than he did before. Noah could probably lay it all out for Finn, and just like that, Kurt wouldn't have to work, they wouldn't have to pay for Kurt's classes, and hell, Noah could cut back on his own hours. Just like that, like the money Finn's getting makes up for everything. The Gatorade shoots, the endorsements, the playing itself; all of it makes money and all of it takes Finn away from them. Physically, sure, while he's in Chicago, but not just physically. Even New York isn't totally safe, Kurt's mastered the art of flirting so he can delete photos, there's all the fake shit with Rachel, and Noah won't give it legitimacy by asking for money. Finn pays for them to travel to see him, yeah, and he slips Kurt extra money, sure, but Noah can't see asking as anything but justifying the entire NFL debacle. 

So he watches Kurt, writes songs, messes with the budget, waits for Finn to play his last down, and hopes everything doesn't fall apart. 

 

The Indian food Noah’s carrying smells good, but part of Noah doesn’t want to eat. His stomach’s unsettled and he hates how many Xanax he pops these days. His BuSpar dosage is already up, though, and he still won’t take any of the other drugs Dr. Rosenbaum suggests. There are some side effects Noah is willing to deal with, but there are some he isn’t, and all of the other drugs have side effects that fall under ‘not dealing with that’. It’s only for a few more years, tops.

For now, he unlocks the door to the apartment, sets the food down, and takes a Xanax before he sets the food out and gets out two pops. Kurt comes in a few minutes later, holding a few papers and setting them on the futon before he sits at the table. 

“Hi, baby. Want to eat first?”

Noah exhales and nods. “Yeah, might as well.” They eat dinner, finish their pops, and then curl up on the futon, taking up about half of the space. 

“I spent about forty-five minutes talking to Ian. I didn’t name specifics, just that it was possible we had a family member who might need us over the next year or two.” Kurt pauses. “I think Ian thinks we know someone being evaluated for cancer, to be honest.”

“Well, might be easier than explaining it,” Noah concedes. As the administrative assistant for the program, if they have Ian on their side, they’re probably good. 

“Yes. So I asked about the paperwork for deferment. Typically they discourage it, due to the nature of, hmm. How did Ian phrase it? ‘The bonds formed during the first year’. However, considering that you and I would be working together whichever year we returned, that mitigates some of the concern. The other issue is that deferment is granted one year at a time. The first year is honestly probably easy. We can almost guarantee that it will be approved, if that’s what we decide to do. It’s the second year that isn’t. They’re less likely to approve a second year, as they’re skeptical about ability to maintain skills long-term over an extended hiatus.”

“Yeah.” Noah nods. “And what about you, blue eyes? Two years in Chicago – we’ve always talked about you at least auditioning for small parts even next year. If more years pass between your undergrad and auditions, what happens?”

Kurt sighs. “If we go to Chicago, even for just a year – that’s it. I know that. I mean, it’s possible I could get small roles in off-off-Broadway things, or even off-Broadway, but no.”

“What’s Finn going to do if we show up there?” Noah asks. “I mean, yeah, we know he’ll probably pay for an apartment near his, that’s not really an issue. And we can work at a Starbucks or an auto shop during the day while he’s practicing or whatever, also not really the issue. But— is he going to get angry? That we’re moving out there just for him? ’Cause I think he might, at least a bit.”

“I know,” Kurt agrees. “But I still think we have to consider it. I know we don’t want to admit it, but he’s not doing well out there at all. Whenever he’s in the city for very long, the paparazzi or the rumormongers or the Bears themselves expect him to be seen with Rachel. Not with us. And when he’s in Chicago, he’s alone and drinks. Presumably until he collapses. At least if we were there, he wouldn’t be lonely. Or drink so much.”

“Yeah.” Noah rubs his hand over his face. “When do we have to decide?”

“Ian said they need the paperwork by July 15, but the turnaround time is quick. It’s likely we’d officially be approved within a day of turning it in, regardless of whether we turn it in immediately or at the deadline.”

Noah nods. “So we could wait. The fifteenth would still give us time to get out there just a few weeks after Finn, maybe even less, depending on how soon he goes back and how soon we get things sorted.”

“Right.” 

“That’s probably what we should do,” Noah says. “Wait and decide in July? See how he is in June?”

“Yes, I think so. That gives us just over two months.” Kurt sighs against Noah. “Whatever we do, we just have to hope it’s the correct thing.”

 

Despite having been under the care of psychiatrist for over five years, Noah doesn't know what he expects from the therapist Kurt found. He agrees that they probably need it, even more than Kurt realized when he made the appointment, but really Noah's only ever gone to Dr. V and then Dr. Rosenbaum. And while Dr. Rosenbaum is competent and manages Noah's medications well, Noah's never felt as comfortable around him. When Noah said he was feeling increasing stress and having to take Xanax more as his years at Mannes came to an end, Dr. Rosenbaum had assumed it was what everyone else saw – the end of undergrad, graduate school approaching, more responsibilities at work. It still ended up with Noah back on the BuSpar, but the actual reasons went unmentioned. 

Plain and simple, people who are married aren’t ‘supposed’ to have a third partner who lives in another state, playing a violent game with some teammates that are homophobic, not to mention a portion of the fanbase that seems both homophobic and violent at times. They’re always so careful, in fact, about their relationship with Finn, that it feels strange to even admit who Finn is, much less to admit the real nature of their relationship. No one that goes to Tisch with them even knows they have a connection to the NFL. 

"Welcome," the therapist greets them, standing up and offering her hand to Kurt. "You must be the Hummels. I'm Michelle."

"Kurt." Kurt shakes her hand firmly before she offers it to Noah. 

"Noah," Noah says, even though he's pretty sure process of elimination helped her figure that part out. 

"I like to begin with a little bit about why my clients are here, using the initial forms as a jumping off point," Michelle says, gesturing for them to sit, and she taps on the tablet in front of her, probably calling up the forms they had filled out and sent back via email. "You mentioned several potential stressors. Graduate school, working, Noah's mother's death, and Noah's sister coming to New York. I'm assuming the last one involves some other issues as well?"

"Moving," Noah says ruefully. "That's the biggest one so far."

"Ah, yes." She nods. "And you also mention travel as a stressor. Usually people find that travel is a source of relaxation and enjoyment, not stress."

Noah exchanges a look with Kurt, and Kurt moves his hand up Noah's leg almost imperceptibly. "It's not so much the travel as the reason for it," Kurt says after a few beats pass. "And we didn't want to detail that in writing." Michelle looks both skeptical and intrigued, but doesn't speak. "That ties into the answer to the question why you, specifically."

"Ah. I did wonder slightly. There's not a shortage of excellent therapists closer to either your home or NYU."

"There's a line on your website," Kurt says slowly, "that you don't make things part of the issue if they're not really the issue. We need to be able to be honest, but our adjustment to Hannah moving here and assorted related issues isn't really because of anyone's extracurriculars, so to speak." He smiles a little. “What most people don’t know is we actually have a relationship with someone else. He lives in a different city, though. So we travel.”

“You’re in a triad?” Michelle asks. “That’s not horribly unusual.”

Noah doesn’t respond, because something about the word ‘triad’ makes him think that it’s the missing piece. The term they’ve looked for, because ‘polyamory’ didn’t fit and ‘threesome’ and ‘ménage à trois’ seemed more sexual and only sexual. But triad sounds _right_ , finally, and it takes all of his self-control not to pull out his phone and Google the word immediately. Kurt must sense that, because his hand on Noah’s leg squeezes tighter for a moment. 

“No, I suppose it’s not,” Kurt says. “However, Finn is— several things. He is technically my stepbrother; our parents married when we were seventeen. He has been Noah’s best friend since first grade. And he plays professional football for the Chicago Bears.”

That definitely was not what Michelle was expecting to hear. Her eyes visibly widen. “Well. That explains the traveling, I suppose.”

“Yeah, we go to the games we can. Not every week, we still have to work and we have school, but.” Noah shrugs. “We make it work as best we can, for now.”

“And you need the ability to talk about _why_ you travel, without making an issue of whether or not you ‘should’,” Michelle concludes, making air quotes around the last word. 

“Exactly.” Noah and Kurt nod. “There are ways that it’s… not ideal, I guess you could say. But it’s not the issue we need to talk about, not really.” Not here, not now, and maybe not ever. Three more seasons, and it's not going to be easy, but that's all they have to do. Get through those three years, and then Finn will be home in New York with them. "Finn still has three years left on his contract, so. We travel."

“Okay. Understandable.” Michelle looks down at her tablet again. “Another question. Noah, you currently see a psychiatrist? Is there a reason you didn’t want to coordinate care through him?”

"He basically manages my meds, for anxiety. I've never felt comfortable telling him about Finn and while probably this could affect things, the anxiety's pretty well managed for now. Everything else is different."

Noah has to give Michelle credit; she moves on to the actual reasons they’re there, without further questions about Finn. They talk a lot about Hannah coming to live with them and a little bit about Rina’s death, taking the full hour before they head back into Manhattan. Michelle’s office is in an area they aren’t as familiar with, but it’s nice out, so they decide to walk towards the 23rd St stop where they can get on the 1 train. It’s just five blocks before they hit Madison Square Park, where they decide to stop at the Shake Shack and have shakes and fries. 

“Triad,” Kurt says a moment after they place their order. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

"The word we've been looking for? Yeah." Noah snorts and shakes his head. "Makes me wonder what we could have found. If we'd known."

"Too late to know now," Kurt says wistfully, and a little bit sadly.

It is. It is too late to know. Would having had a name have made a difference, at any point? Noah doesn't know. It'd be nice to think that it would have, that maybe they wouldn't be two and a half hours from Finn, and that's by plane. There's no reason to think it necessarily would have, though, no matter how high the temptation to imagine a different scenario.

After they finish their snack, it’s just another four blocks to the stop, and as they sit down, Kurt puts his arm around Noah's shoulder, tugging him close. "I liked her, though. Once we shocked her a bit, she was very matter-of-fact."

"Yeah. She's right. It's not going to be easy." Noah shakes his head. "I wish I felt as confident as Mom seemed to be about it."

"She was, wasn't she?" Kurt sighs, smiling slightly. “And Hannah’s very optimistic about it.”

“Thanks, by the way,” Noah says, his own smile a little wry. 

“For what?” Kurt asks. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve only talked to Burt when I’m not around or not on speaker, lately. Are he and Carole still asking all those questions?”

“More Carole now, I think,” Kurt says. “But Dad’s passing them along, so either way it works out similarly. Once Hannah’s here, I think it’ll stop.”

Noah nods. “Yeah. I hope so, blue eyes. I hope so.” Noah has enough doubt about it himself without adding anyone else’s to the mix.

 

They’ve done well so far. They’d moved to a new apartment, gotten Hannah settled in, figured out how to enroll her in New York City public schools, and even gotten her into her first choice high school. All of that seems really easy, though, because now it’s a week before Hannah starts school, and on a Thursday evening that, in theory, they should be spending getting ready for the next day of orientation activities for their second year at Tisch, they are instead standing in front of a high school with Hannah, preparing to go to the ‘Student/Parent Orientation’.

Somehow, all of this doesn’t really hit Noah until the moment they direct Hannah one way and then smile at Kurt and Noah. “And parents this way.”

“Fuck, K,” Noah says under his breath. “I feel like someone’s going to pop around a corner any second now and laugh hysterically at us. We’re not _parents_.”

“No.” Kurt stops them outside the labeled door, leaning against the wall. “We’re as good as it gets, though. Come on. We can do this.”

“Yeah. Just.” Noah takes a deep breath. “I mean, we’re not her parents, but we’re her guardians. Shit. It didn’t really hit me before.”

“Yes. Well, technically just you for another three weeks, since Ohio wouldn’t grant both of us guardianship, but the state of New York will fix that soon enough,” Kurt says, taking Noah’s hand and leading them to the door. “At least we know we’ll be the youngest people here.”

The room doesn’t exactly fall silent when they enter, though there is a distinct murmur of something like surprise. There’s a table with nametag stickers and markers, and Noah makes a nametag for himself with a slight snort while Kurt writes his. Then they move toward the assembled group and pick up the two pieces of paper on another table. The people in the room do not look like they all stepped out of the upper west side or midtown, which is reassuring and makes sense, given that the school’s open to all five boroughs and is one of the only schools, period, with any kind of culinary focus. There’s supposed to be about a hundred freshmen, though there are definitely not one hundred parents there. 

“Excuse me, are the two of you lost?” Noah turns his head to his left, Kurt doing the same, to look at the woman who reminds him of what an older Santana would look like. 

“I don’t think so, no,” Noah replies, exchanging a quick glance with Kurt, who almost looks amused.

“The elementary school is two blocks down, if that’s the orientation you’re looking for,” the woman says. 

Noah looks for the woman’s nametag before responding. “Nina. Hi. I’m Noah and this is Kurt, and I’m pretty sure a fourteen year old would be bored at the elementary school,” he says lightly, trying to smile in a friendly way. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Nina says. “You both look so young, and, well… if you don’t mind me saying, you have that ‘first timer’ look.”

“I’d love to tell you it’s an excellent skin-care regimen tricking you,” Kurt says brightly. “But it’s not.”

“We’re my sister’s guardians,” Noah explains. “And you aren’t wrong about the ‘first timer’ thing.”

Nina nods. “Well, everybody has to start somewhere. Lucky for you, I’m a pro at student orientation, so you’ll just have to come and sit with me.” She steps between them, hooking her arms in theirs and beginning to walk towards the rows of chairs. 

Noah suppresses a laugh, because now she definitely reminds him of Santana. “Yes, ma’am,” he says instead.

“Language!” Nina says. “I’m not _that_ old!”

“Are you kidding? My Nana would smack me if she heard I wasn’t polite.”

“It’s true,” Kurt says. “Nana would.”

“Good. I like your Nana. Does she live in the city?”

“No, Ohio. That’ll have to be the next project, getting her to move,” Noah laughs. 

“Once she moves, I’ll introduce her to my mother, and they can complain together about how badly behaved the younger generations are,” Nina offers.

“Nana would _definitely_ enjoy that,” Kurt says. “Does your mother knit?”

“Badly, but she enjoys it. Or she enjoys giving us these horrible, itchy sweaters and watching us pretend to love them,” Nina says.

“Oh, yeah. They’ll get along just fine,” Noah concludes. They take their seats and while they wait for everything to begin, Noah looks around briefly. Enough people probably heard them talking to Nina that they’ll figure out who they are and why they’re there pretty soon. And they are doing pretty well. Hannah’s there, everyone has food and a place to sleep and clothes and everything. As long as the orientation doesn’t throw a wrench into anything, they might just make it through September at least.

 

In theory, Noah is against bribery. In practice, he and Kurt started using bribery with Beth from the first time Shelby left her with them and took a well-deserved few hours to herself. He and Kurt had stuck to their resolve not to bribe Hannah for about seven hours on the day she arrived in Manhattan. 

Since they’ve been gone for two weekends—to Pittsburgh on a Monday night and then out to San Francisco—and they’re going to be gone again the following weekend to Chicago, Noah spends Monday evening trying to figure out a good bribe. On Tuesday, as soon as Hannah gets home from school and changes out of her uniform with the usual complaining, they go down to South Street Seaport, a strange way to take advantage of a rare Tuesday with no classes in the afternoon. Hannah has some cash and Kurt does too, and Noah’s not completely stupid; he knows where it comes from. No one’s arguing about it when it’s this way, though, Noah included, so he doesn’t say a word. 

Two hours into the trip, and Noah’s standing inside a Coach store listening to Kurt and Hannah debate the relative merits of a Coach handbag, especially for a teenager. “I’m going to wait outside,” Noah declares during a moment of silence, and Kurt laughs. 

“Yes, we’ll be done in just a minute.” The two of them kiss, Hannah rolls her eyes, and Noah heads outside, putting on his sunglasses as he scans for a nearby bench. Finding one, he heads towards it, digging in his pocket for his earbuds. 

He’s about to sit down when he hears someone call “Noah!” and he spins around, recognizing Elizabeth’s voice even though he can’t spot her. He’s not all that surprised that someone else from their program is out on a sunny October day, especially since November’s schedule looks a little hellish. 

What he doesn’t exactly expect is to recognize the person walking with her, and he can feel his eyes widen a little. Of course, he’d lost track of Quinn since Lima, just like he’d lost track of several people, so there’s no reason that she can’t be standing in front of him, laughing with Elizabeth, but it’s still a surprise. 

“Hey!” Elizabeth says, crossing the last distance between them. “Out shopping? We’re taking a little bit of a tour, Quinn just got to New York last month!” She looks between them and then shakes her head. “Sorry, I should introduce you. Noah, this is—”

“Quinn,” Noah finishes. 

“That’s right,” Quinn says, pulling her hand back and looking at Noah suspiciously. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Noah stifles a laugh. “Wow. I’d say I’m hurt, Fabray, but.” He reaches up and takes his sunglasses off. “Is it the hair? I think it’s the sunglasses, but they insist it’s the hair.”

Quinn looks even more confused for a few seconds before she starts to smile. “Noah… Puckerman,” Quinn finally says. “It’s the hair. And the clothes. And the… everything!”

“Who’s Puckerman?” Elizabeth says, looking confused. “And wait, you two know each other?”

“It’s been Hummel for a few years now,” Noah says to Quinn, then nods at Elizabeth. “And yeah, we went to high school together.”

“You got married. That’s wonderful,” Quinn says. She extends her arms a little awkwardly, like she’s not sure it’s an appropriate gesture. Noah steps forward and pulls her into a hug. 

“It’s good to see you,” he says, because it surprisingly is. “So you’re in New York now? How was—?” He frowns. “You know I don’t remember. The West.”

“Colorado, and it was great,” Quinn says. “How are you? And Kurt?”

“We’re good,” Noah says, nodding. “At Tisch. I know, me in grad school.” He grins a little. 

Quinn laughs. "So, did you go to the reunion?"

“No, none of us did. Mike and Tina did; you know they’re in New York now, too? It’s like we’re having a convention and didn’t know it.”

“We should try to get together some time,” Quinn offers. “How’s everyone else doing? I’ve seen Finn on TV.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, he ends up there, doesn’t he? Haven’t really kept in touch with everyone. Artie and Lauren, yeah. I get an email from Santana sometimes. I think she’s in Europe now?” Noah shrugs. “Well, and I mean, Rachel, but she went to school six blocks from our first apartment, so never really had the chance to lose touch with her.”

“I was surprised to see they’d gotten back together,” Quinn says. “I saw a little blurb about them in _In Style_.”

Noah’s secretly a little pleased, because he’d been the one to suggest to Bobby that they should get things about Finn and Rachel in some national print media, but he just snorts and nods a little. “Yeah, well, it’s— yeah, surprising’s a good word.” 

Quinn shakes her head. “I guess some people never really change.”

“Mmm,” Noah says, taking a cue from Kurt’s favorite non-response, and he looks up as soon as he thinks he hears Hannah. Sure enough, Hannah and Kurt are done, without any purchases, and he waves them over. 

“Oh my, Quinn Fabray,” Kurt says, stepping forward and giving her a hug. “What a surprise. You look good!”

“Kurt! You look fantastic! And is that Hannah?” Quinn exclaims. “Are you here on vacation?”

“No, I live here!” Hannah says. “And we eat bacon.”

“Oh. Well.” Quinn seems taken aback. “Bacon’s good.” She looks at Noah questioningly.

“Mom died in May,” Noah explains. “Blood clot, no warning. So Hannah’s experiencing high school in Manhattan.”

“Oh, Puck, I’m so sorry,” Quinn says. “I had no idea.”

“It’s been a little bit of an adjustment,” Noah acknowledges, “but it’s working out okay. We’re just bribing her this afternoon because we’re leaving her behind again this weekend.”

“It’s true,” Hannah says. “They forgot to read the parts about how bribery isn’t good parenting or whatever.”

“No, we just choose to ignore them,” Kurt says to Hannah.

“I’m sure they’re doing a wonderful job,” Quinn says. “Really, I’m sure you’re both doing fine with her. She’s lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, nodding a little, and Kurt smiles at Quinn. Noah can tell that Elizabeth is more than a little confused by the entire conversation, her expression somewhat befuddled. “So. Are you working here, or?”

“I’m in graduate school. I took a year off after college to do some traveling, but now, here I am!” Quinn says. “Such a big city and yet somehow I find two—no, sorry, Hannah— _three_ people from Lima.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, isn’t that how it works? It was good to run into you, though.”

“You, too. Here, I have a business card with my number on it,” Quinn says, rifling through her purse and producing a card. Noah takes it and slips it into his pocket, then pulls her into another hug. 

“I have one question,” he says seriously. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” Quinn says, without hesitation. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Noah answers, nodding and looking at Kurt out the corner of his eyes. “I really am.” Things aren’t optimal, and there are things that Noah would love to change, but yes, he’s happy.

Quinn nods and heads down the Seaport with Elizabeth, who looks even more confused than she did before, and Noah turns towards Hannah and Kurt. 

“That was so weird,” Hannah says, and Noah snorts. 

“Thanks for the commentary, squirt.” The three of them start walking, Noah’s arm sliding around Kurt. 

“It’s true!” Hannah protests. “Now c’mon, for a trip designed to bribe me, I’m sorely lacking actual bribes.”

 

Most of the second year of their program is working on an actual production, rather than the smaller weekly assignments. They still have classes and seminars, but they’re geared at complementing the overall focus of the year, and since they got to choose their own collaborative partners for the year, Noah and Kurt can do a significant amount of work at home or even while they’re travelling.

No one had particularly noticed their travelling the previous fall. Part of that was because so many of the games had been close to the city, with the Giants just outside Manhattan, and Philadelphia not far away. LaGuardia to O’Hare is a short, cheap, and common flight, meaning they could adjust their departure and arrival around other commitments when necessary.

The 2017 season is a little different. For starters, there’s Hannah to consider, and if they’ve made arrangements for her to hang out with Syd or Tina, it turns into the idea that they might as well change a shift at work and take the whole weekend, or at least wait until the latest possible moment to return. The week that the Bears play at Pittsburgh for Monday Night Football, though, they miss all their classes that day, clearing it ahead of time but not mentioning it to the other twenty-two of them in their cycle. They don’t miss any work for it, though, which is good, because they decide to make a weekend of it and take off late on Friday for the next game, in San Francisco. The next weekend against the Vikings in Chicago makes three weeks they’re gone in a row, and after a bye week, the Bears are up on a Thursday night in Green Bay, and Noah can admit he and Kurt leave their lyric tutorial like there’s a fire that they need to get to, just so they can be in front of the television by kickoff. When they can’t make a game in person, they go hang out with Syd at the only lesbian sports bar Noah’s ever been in, along with a contingent of others that call themselves Elevens. Noah, Kurt, and Syd are pretty sure none of the others realize how close their connection with Finn is.

So neither Noah nor Kurt are surprised when the next lunch with their entire cycle present, the following week, turns into a game of ‘quiz-the-Hummels’.

“You two sure are busy a lot,” Stephanie says teasingly. “We can’t figure out if you secretly sell drugs or something else.” She laughs. “I mean, we know your sister’s living here now and all, but that doesn’t explain all of it.”

“And you’ve been spotted at LaGuardia two different weekends, so it really can’t be your sister,” Amanda adds. “C’mon, tell us all your secrets.”

“We just go to see family,” Kurt says, a very small smirk on his face. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Uh-huh.” Amanda looks even more skeptical than she sounds. “Let me guess, this mysterious ‘brother’ that doesn’t otherwise get mentioned.”

“We’re allowed to have a few cards we play close to our chest, aren’t we?” Noah asks.

“Hmm. No, not really.” Stephanie laughs. “Tell us something, at least.”

“Aww, leave ’em alone, guys,” Elizabeth says, and Noah shoots her a grateful look. He doesn’t know exactly how much she figured out from overhearing their conversation with Quinn, or if she asked Quinn for more information, but if she’s figured it out, she’s apparently a co-conspirator.

“Just like any family member would hopefully be supportive of another family member’s career, we make sure we show ours. That’s all,” Kurt says.

“Uh-huh. What kind of career requires showing your support by travelling? And mostly on the weekends?”

“The over-in-four-years kind,” Noah mutters under his breath. Kurt squeezes his hand and Noah can hear the little sigh that no one else eating with them probably catches. Four years total, three years remaining, and hey, they’ve lived through a three year countdown before. They didn’t actually get to the end, though, before it started again, which means sometimes Noah thinks of it as one long seven-year countdown, or seven years and a few months.

Noah tries not to think of it that way, though.

“Maybe he’s in some kind of roadshow. Like a circus or rodeo,” Cassie pipes up, getting her mostly incredulous looks.

“No, that’s Brittany,” Noah says, grinning. “We went to high school with her, and she does Cirque stuff.”

Cassie grins smugly. “See, I was close!”

“But that’s not their brother,” Peter insists, looking intrigued in spite of himself. “So I think we can rule out circus or rodeo performer.”

“Maybe he’s in musical theatre, too,” Amanda says. “He could be part of a touring show, and they go see him in most of the towns.”

“It is a little like a touring show,” Kurt acknowledges, “but there’s been no dancing involved with it for years now.” Noah laughs, and Kurt grins at him with a wink.

“We should give them a clue,” Noah finally says. “We’ll tell them where we were and what dates.”

“Oooh, yes.” Kurt grins. “See if they can figure it out.”

“Exactly.” Noah pulls out his phone. “Okay, someone write it down. On the first, we were in San Francisco. On the eighth, we were in Chicago, and on the fifth of next month, we’re going to be in Philadelphia.”

There’s some furious typing into various phones, and Noah puts his away with a grin. “Now if you think you have it figured out, you can ask us,” Kurt says. “But if you’re wrong, we’re not going to give you any additional clues.”

Considering they’ve made a point of not wearing Bears gear to class, Noah isn’t sure any of them will figure it out. And if they do, well. At no point did they say they’d reveal _exactly_ who their brother is.

 

Noah is glad that the discount from TKTS is substantial, because otherwise Kurt wouldn’t have lasted as long as he did in the February cold. They have the night more or less free, though, with Hannah planning to stay at Ana’s, so stopping by Times Square on the way down to Tisch just to see what they could get made sense. They ended up with tickets to _Nerds_ , which finally opened just a few weeks prior, and while none of the reviews say that it’s a forbidden love story between Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, Noah still thinks that would be a pretty good twist. 

They haven’t gotten to the correct subway stop when they hear someone behind them calling out, “Hey! Hummel!”

When they turn, Noah spots Jamie walking towards them, a huge grin on his face and a plaid fedora on top of his head. Noah and Kurt shift to the side of the sidewalk, waiting for Jamie to catch up with them. “Hey, how’s it going?” Noah asks as they exchange handshakes.

“It’s going alright,” Jamie says. “Just leaving an audition. Don’t think I have much hope for anything beyond the chorus, but a role’s a role at this point.” 

“Which production?” Kurt asks.

“ _Nelson_ ,” Jamie answers. 

“Who did they ever attach as a composer for that one?” Noah asks. “I heard so many different names a year or two ago.”

“No clue,” Jamie admits. “It’s all very hush-hush. No one’s even seen the book besides the producers and the director.”

“Well, when you get cast, let us know,” Kurt says, grinning a little. “I know Noah would love some insider scoop.”

Noah shakes his head. “Just because I keep up with various rumors…”

“Oh, I heard about you and your rumors,” Jamie laughs. “Hudson told me all about it. I promise if I hear anything good, I’ll hook you up.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, grinning a little. “I appreciate it.”

“We’ll tell Finn we ran into you. As soon as you get previews, we’ll get him out here for one,” Kurt promises. 

“Sounds great. Glad I bumped into you two,” Jamie says, offering Kurt his hand. 

“You too,” Kurt says as they exchange another round of handshakes. Jamie heads back down the street and the two of them turn back towards the subway stop. 

“Secret composer, secret book,” Noah says, laughing. “That’s a good way to get people interested.”

 

Noah starts to pull out two pops, then changes his mind and pulls out two beers, opening them before carrying them into the living room. It’s only lunchtime, but they’re in the middle of a heavy enough conversation that a beer each with their pizza doesn’t seem like the worst idea. 

“Next item?” Kurt says ruefully, taking the beer from Noah’s hand with a smile before taking a drink. “Not that there’s actually a written list.”

“No,” Noah agrees, laughing. “But yes, next item on the list of ‘unfortunate realities’.” He takes a drink of his own beer and sighs. “There’s no guarantees.”

“No. We have very nice MFAs that will look lovely in frames on the wall next to our undergraduate degrees, but they are certainly no guarantees.” Kurt sighs a little. “And of course there’s that BMI thing we can apply for. The workshop, but that’s just one afternoon a week.” He laughs. “At least it’s free.”

“Yeah. I guess – we’ve been able to put off a lot of things. But we graduated and we graduated a second time, and now what?”

“What we’re really saying is are we going to be theatre people, and deal with the financial uncertainty that comes with it, in order to maintain our skills and stay in the game, or are we going to play it safe?”

“Yeah,” Noah says, nodding. “Pretty much. And there’s _no_ safety net, with the first option. We’d have to acknowledge that.”

“Less or no travelling, unless someone else foots the bill,” Kurt says. “A limited ability to purchase gifts. A continuing limited clothing budget,” Kurt adds ruefully. “Probably back to a smaller apartment after Hannah moves out.”

“Yeah. All of that,” Noah agrees. “And there’s no— we can’t be sure.” Noah exhales. “I mean, it wouldn’t be easy if we play it safe, even, but if we go completely with theatre, there’s really no way to know if we’ll ever manage to have a kid. Another kid?” Noah pauses and shrugs. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes. No baby or babies,” Kurt says. 

It feels cruel, so much of this coming at once, but they have to decide soon, more or less. Finn’s married. They thought right up to the point they broke the stupid glass that something was going to stop it, but he actually married her, and then left on a fucking honeymoon. Whatever hopes and plans they had before – well, it doesn’t matter. He married her and left and didn’t even see them graduate, and now it’s just he and Kurt again against the world. Sure, for a year or two, maybe, Burt will let Kurt keep that credit card, but Noah knows Kurt won’t use it for anything other than what he has for the past six years, things for Hannah or Beth or Audrey, or gifts in December. And it all sucks, but Noah at least needs to know where they’re going.

There’s no more tuition, but they weren’t paying for it, not with their tuition assistantships. Noah’s going to need something to help him maintain his skills, and Kurt will need to keep going with the dance classes and voice lessons he’s maintained for the past two years. Hannah’s trust helps with the bills, but Noah’s careful not to use too much, not knowing what Hannah will want to do for college. They have to make some financial decisions, and they have to decide what they want. 

“Yeah.” Noah sighs. 

“I don’t like it,” Kurt admits. “But I don’t want— if we play it safe, baby, we’re never going to know. If we give it everything, at least we know we did our best.”

“Yeah. That’s more or less how I feel.” Noah takes another long drink of his beer, almost forgotten in his hand. “I know most people would tell us to stop worrying. We’re young. Who knows what will happen. All of that.”

“We’re going to be twenty-five in a month. And Hannah’s going to be fifteen in just a couple of weeks.” Kurt raises his own bottle. “I’m pretty sure there’s entire books written about people who accomplished huge things by age twenty-five.” He takes a drink, not stopping until he drains the bottle. “We have four degrees and a teenager.”

Noah laughs. “Not shabby, but yeah. I think those people are full of shit, too.”

“So we agree,” Kurt says more seriously. “We’re going to do this. This crazy thing we’ve spent six years training to do, in a volatile and unpredictable field.”

“Yep. Pretty much,” Noah agrees, nodding. “Going for broke.”


	7. Giant of Illinois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And underneath it all, the giant was afraid. [July 6, 2016 - August 10, 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: alcohol use/abuse, implied suicidal ideation, infidelity, issues of consent, pregnancy loss**

The first few months following the draft don’t feel much different from the previous four years. Finn still has classes to attend, exams to take, and his graduation ceremony to walk in. He, Jamie, and Doug pack up the room for the last time, then they exchange bro-hugs and head in their separate directions, Finn driving the truck back to Lima. He’s only there for two days before he, his mom, Burt, and Audrey fly to New York for Kurt and Puck’s graduations.

June in New York feels like every other June, mostly. Sure, Finn has a manager now, Bobby Blalock from Arrow Management, which is sort of strange, but that means he doesn’t even have to think much about the football stuff. His manager even finds an assortment of apartments for Finn to look at, once Finn tells him what he’s looking for, and sends pictures for Finn to choose a place to live, and as easy as that, there’s an apartment in Chicago waiting for Finn. That leaves Finn free to focus on the important things, like their annual trip to Pensacola and their equally annual attendance at New York City’s Pride events, which doubles as Puck and Kurt’s birthday parties. 

The normalcy of the summer comes to an abrupt stop on July 6th, when Finn has to board a plane to Columbus so he can get his truck and the rest of his belongings and drive to Chicago, the key to the new apartment in his pocket and a set of sheets in the truck’s toolbox for the mattress Finn had delivered to the apartment that morning. He parks in front of the brick-front building and carries his bags up to the third floor, where he unlocks the apartment and walks inside, dropping the bags by the door. The whole thing is white: white walls, white cabinets, white appliances, even the floor is such light-colored wood that it almost looks white. It reminds Finn of a hospital, and the only furniture in the apartment is a king-size mattress and box spring positioned underneath the windows at the far end of the long, narrow room. 

The apartment doesn’t look like a place that someone could live for four years, but somehow, Finn has to make it work. Once again, his life is being measured out in a four-year chunk, and now he’s all alone in Chicago and has to think about what that really means. First, though, he needs to find a grocery store and figure out how to stock a kitchen from scratch. 

Finding the grocery store isn’t hard, but once he starts wandering up and down the aisles with a shopping cart, he loses focus and tosses any food that seems at least remotely relevant into the cart. By the time he makes his way to the check-out, his cart contains milk, cereal, about a dozen cans of fancy soup, a bag of apples, a bottle of rum, a bottle of Jameson, a bottle of red wine with a name he can’t pronounce, and one wine glass. It doesn’t look like much when it’s back in the kitchen area of his apartment, and Finn quickly realizes he has no bowls to eat his cereal or his soup. 

He eats an apple and pours himself a glass of wine. He puts the sheets and some blankets on the bed, then sits down on it with his iPad and his wine. It’s late enough in the day that Kurt and Puck should both be back at their apartment, so Finn calls them up via FaceTime. Kurt appears first, then Puck a few seconds later, the two of them sitting on the futon. 

“Hi, darling,” Kurt says. “I suppose you found everything okay?”

“Hey. Yeah, I found it,” Finn says, lying down on the mattress and propping the iPad on his chest. “So, this apartment? It’s the _whitest_ apartment I’ve ever seen in my whole life, you guys.”

 

“Hey, Hudson!” one of the defensive ends, but not one of the starters, yells at Finn. “When you’re out there looking for a receiver and trying to stay off your ass, you gotta remember this ain’t Wisconsin anymore!”

“Sorry!” Finn yells back. “Yeah, I got it!”

The adjustment period has lasted longer than Finn expected. The defensive end—Finn can’t remember his name, since he’s not somebody Finn spends a lot of time interacting with—is right, though. This isn’t Wisconsin. It’s not anything like Wisconsin. There are similarities, sure: Finn’s still playing football and he’s still in the midwest. Everything else, from the tone in the locker room to the way they play on the field, is different, and even though Finn should be getting used to it by now, it still feels like a shock every time he encounters a new reminder of how much this _isn’t_ like being in Madison.

“Don’t listen to Collier,” Victor says from a nearby locker. “I heard stories about him, before they traded Huffman, about when Collier first got here.”

“It doesn’t bother me. He’s just trying to help,” Finn says. “I think, anyway.”

“Well, he can pretend he is, anyway, if Coach listens too closely.” Victor shrugs a little. “Real help’s telling you where the best food is, or where you can go grocery shopping without people staring at your T-shirt and asking if you play for the Bears.”

“When my brothers are in town, we’re going to that place with the foie gras and the fries and the duck fat or whatever. Puck saw it on some old TV show rerun and the place is still in business.”

“You eat foie gras?” Victor asks with a laugh. “I’ve never had anything like that.”

“I don’t eat it. _He_ eats it,” Finn explains. “I’ll just have, I dunno. Regular food. He’s kind of a food snob, so livers and duck fat. I don’t even ask questions anymore!”

“Well, you’re a good sport, then,” Victor says. 

“That’s me,” Finn replies, with a thin smile. “A good sport.” He finishes getting changed and stows his gear in his locker, grabbing his bag to leave. As he passes by Turner and Franco’s locker, he overhears them shit-talking each other like they usually do. 

“Yeah, I saw you crying like a little faggot when you missed that pass,” Turner says to Franco, and a couple of the other guys laugh.

“That wasn't me, that was your mom, and she was crying ’cause she was still so sore from last night,” Franco responds, and this time there’s some hoots. When Franco realizes he’s got an audience, he adds, “But hey, your mom likes it up the ass, too, so I can see how you’d make that mistake.”

“Dude, that’s not cool,” Finn says. 

Franco rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, Hudson. New kid can’t take a joke?”

“Can you guys just lay off the faggot comments?” Finn asks. “I can take a joke, there’s just no reason to use that word, alright?”

“No worries,” Turner says, then his grin gets a little meaner. “Your brother’s not here!”

Finn lets his bag slide down his shoulder, ready to drop it if he has to. “Yeah, we’re not talking about my brother right now. I’m just asking you, nicely, to lay off the faggot comments.”

Turner shakes his head slowly. “Nah, we were talking about faggots, so I think we _were_ talking about your brother.”

“No,” Finn says, letting the bag drop to the ground and squaring himself. “I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about my brother. Not now. Not later. In fact, I think we’re gonna go with ‘not ever’, you got that?” He takes a deep breath to control the urge to plant his fist in Turner’s smug face, then forces himself to smile like the whole thing is a joke. “Anyway, I thought we were talking about your _mom_ and her deep, meaningful relationship with Franco.”

“Oooh,” Franco crows. “Yeah, she’s coming over later. Telling me all about how she wants deep and meaningful, and then it’ll get _real_ deep.” He puts out a fist for Finn to bump, and Finn gives their knuckles a brief tap before picking up his bag again. Turner doesn’t look too pissed, luckily, just sort of put out that he’s the loser in this particular battle of wits. Finn gives him a bro-nod and Turner rolls his eyes and turns back to his locker. 

Victor comes up behind Finn and claps him on the shoulder. “C’mon, Bluebird,” he says jokingly. “Tell me more about this duck fat thing in case I need to impress the family.”

“They fry everything in it, man,” Finn says, as he and Victor head towards the door. “My step-dad would have another heart attack just breathing the air in there, from what I can tell.”

“So the team shouldn’t take some of their food to a cardiac unit as community involvement?” Victor laughs. When the door shuts behind him, he shakes his head. “You’ll get used to it. I did, anyway.”

Finn snaps his head in Victor’s direction and gives him a long look. “Yeah?” he asks, finally. “How long’s it take?”

“That depends on how seriously you keep taking them. You aren’t going to change people like Franco and Turner.”

“Changed people’s minds at Wisconsin,” Finn says.

“From what I hear, you had the university backing you up,” Victor says mildly. “One person isn’t going to change the Bears’ locker room.”

“I don’t know, man. When they signed me, they seemed pretty excited about the Elevens, so maybe that’s a start.”

“Oh, Bluebird.” Victor shakes his head. “They just think they’re going to see hot women making out.”

Finn shrugs. “All I can do is keep trying, right? Nothing wrong with trying.”

“Well, just don’t get yourself stuck in the mud, tires spinning in place.”

 

Finn feels like he’s back in high school and being called in to Figgins’ office for something when he sits down in the overstuffed leather chair in the director for player development’s office, with the director and the assistant director for the offense opposite him. Also a little bit like high school, he’s not entirely sure what it is he’s done wrong, since there hasn’t been any punching or skipping. 

“Hudson,” the director says, seemingly friendly and stretching out his hand. “You’re settling in here in Chicago okay? You’re happy with the Bears?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, it’s going pretty well, I think. I finally found the cheaper grocery store, too, so that was good.”

The director chuckles. “An important milestone any time you move,” he agrees. “We just wanted to have a quick chat with you about image, I guess you’d say. We like for the Bears to show involved family _and friends_.”

“Ok,” Finn says, nodding again. “Sure. I mean, I haven’t really made a lot of friends in Chicago yet, but I think I’m getting along pretty well with a lot of the team.”

“Right, right.” The director smiles at him, looks over at the assistant director for a moment, then continues. “And of course we’re glad to have the support of your family. We wondered a bit, though – whatever happened to that cute little brunette?”

It takes Finn a second to process what the director’s asking him. “Oh, Rachel? Yeah, we’re, uh. It’s a long-distance thing, since she’s in New York and I’m in Chicago and all of that.”

“You should fly her out here for some games! We can let her sit in the box with some of the other player’s wives,” the director suggests. “That way you don’t need to worry about the weather, when it gets a little colder.”

“Oh. Yeah, that would be nice, I guess,” Finn says. “She’d probably really like that. Maybe she can fly in with my brothers for one of the next few games. They could show her some stuff in the city or whatever.”

“Oh, well, if you think she needs some familiar faces around, I suppose that’s a possibility,” the director says slowly. “I don’t think we could accommodate everyone in the box, though.”

Finn didn’t expect them to let Puck and Kurt sit in the box anyway, but he doesn’t like the idea of Rachel in the box and them not in the box. Still, they’ll be coming back to the apartment with him at night, and she won’t, so that’s something. Which reminds him he needs to ask about hotels.

“Is there some specific hotel I should have her stay at?” Finn asks. “She can’t stay with me when she’s in town.”

“No?” The director looks surprised. “She can’t?”

“It wouldn’t be, like, _proper_ or whatever,” Finn explains. “She doesn’t just sleep over at people’s apartments. She’s going to be on Broadway, so she’s really concerned about appearances and stuff like that. I don’t stay at her place in New York, either. ’Cause of the appearances.”

“That’s refreshing,” the director says. “Maybe one weekend you could have your mother join her in Chicago, let the two of them have a girls’ weekend.”

“Yeah, my mom would probably love that,” Finn says. “Sure. Is there a specific game you think I should have them come to?”

“Well, Thanksgiving, of course, but perhaps one of the home games in October, as well.” He smiles. “Let us know when they’ve picked a date, and we’ll make some arrangements for the game, and take care of the hotel as well.”

“Ok, great! Yeah, Mom’ll be thrilled. Maybe she could bring my little sister and they could go shopping. There’s one of those American Girl stores on the Mile, right?” Finn asks. 

“Yes, there is! My daughter loves that store,” the assistant speaks up for the first time. “That sounds like a great weekend for your family, Hudson.” He looks to the director and they both stand. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us today.”

“Sure, not a problem,” Finn says. “Any time.”

“Just let us know a date,” the director reiterates, walking towards the door to the office. “And let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

Finn nods, but as he leaves the office, he gets a weird feeling that the director and his assistant just got something they wanted, but Finn isn’t sure exactly what it was or why they wanted it. The conversation seemed to go smoothly enough, but Finn can’t help but wonder what they would have said if he’d answered that the ‘cute brunette’ wasn’t actually his girlfriend at all. Some part of him wonders what they would have said or done if Finn had told them that Puck and Kurt are the ones who belong in that box with the wives. He’s sure the reaction wouldn’t have been quite so warm. 

 

"I'm going to freeze at the games later in the season," Kurt says ruefully. "We'll have to bring a blanket."

Noah laughs. "Yeah, basically. It's not exactly balmy today."

"No." Kurt shakes his head. "Definitely colder than in September." It's only the second Bears game they've attended, and since Finn wasn't starting in the first one, they had spent more time wandering around the stadium and getting a feel for it – so much so that they had missed the kick off. 

Not this time, though; not with Finn actually starting. They're in their—very good—seats forty-five minutes before kick-off, drinks and snacks in hand, mostly ignoring the people around them. Kurt isn't sure if they group all the players' complementary tickets together or not, so while they're surrounded by Bears fans, that doesn't really tell them all that much, at a home game. 

"What are they doing over there?"

"Inflating a giant bear for the players to run in through," Noah says. "I never thought about how strange that was, actually."

A mass of players, probably half the team, runs onto the field with a lot of fake smoke and a few fireworks, and then they start introducing players individually. The defense goes first; Kurt hasn't bothered to learn the Bears' defense, except if Finn's mentioned one of them by name specifically. He knows all the positions, of course, but it's the other teams' defenses that actually matter when it comes to Finn. 

The individual player introductions get even more smoke, more fireworks, and their name, number, and picture up on the jumbotron. After the defense, they introduce the offense, and right there in the middle of the list of offensive players, they announce Finn "Bluebird" Hudson. 

"I wish they wouldn't set off the fireworks _while_ they're running by," Kurt says with a sigh after they cheer and clap.

"I guess they have it all calibrated and stuff." Noah shrugs as they sit back down. "But yeah, it does seem a little dicey." 

The two of them spend most of the game standing up, and while Kurt knows they're generally in constant contact, he feels like he's just shy of climbing inside Noah's clothes. It's getting colder, even though supposedly early October isn't that cold in Chicago, and he wishes he'd brought his gloves. The game is going well for Finn, though; the offensive line keeps him from getting sacked, he doesn't have any interceptions, and the Bears lead the entire game. It's not perfect—Kurt finally realized midway through junior year that there's not really such a creature as a perfect game—but it's very good, and Kurt's confident enough in his knowledge of football now to know that it's a good first start for Finn. 

The entire game of football is more conflicting now; before, Finn was enjoying Wisconsin, had chosen it for himself, and it was paying for his college education. When he did well, they celebrated with him. When the Heisman campaign started, Kurt had begun to feel torn; how could they celebrate Finn doing well when it increased the pressure on him to enter the draft? 

Now that Finn's playing the NFL, locked into a contract for another four years, Kurt's mind is thoroughly conflicted. If he's being honest, he loathes the NFL. He doesn't care if the Bears win or lose, except as it reflects on Finn. But of course, he still wants Finn to do well, which means having to care if the Bears win or lose. 

The whole paradox makes his head hurt. He's not a Bears fan, but he might as well be, for how it appears to the outside world. 

"Smile for the cameras," Noah murmurs as the game ends and the Bears celebrate on field. "Hug each other, pat each other's shoulders or back, but never too close, not in the NFL."

Kurt snorts, wrapping both arms around Noah. "No, of course not!"

They walk towards the player entrance, leaning against a wall with two fresh beers, knowing it will take awhile for Finn to be done. Post-game locker room meeting and then the media, and most of the fans will be long gone before Finn emerges. Close to ninety minutes pass before the doors open and a few of the players start to emerge, some of them meeting with their girlfriends or wives as they leave. Finn isn’t the first one to leave, but less than half the team has left before Kurt and Noah spot him. 

They stand and grin, and Kurt is aware of the people nearby – few of them, but still there. “Hi,” he says quietly, foregoing the ‘darling’ that his brain wants to add near-automatically. 

“Hey, you guys,” Finn says. 

“Not bad,” Noah says, grin widening, and they fall into step beside Finn. “You beat ‘America’s Team’.”

“I still don’t understand that moniker,” Kurt admits. 

“I don’t understand why the apartment doesn’t have a whirlpool or one of those giant showers with the seat in it,” Finn says, rolling his shoulders. 

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Kurt asks, narrowing his eyes. 

“Just sore. These guys hit a lot harder than they did in the Big Ten,” Finn says. “Just one more thing.” He shrugs and shakes his head. “Anyway, you guys ready to go?”

“Yeah, we could probably use something other than hot dogs and beer,” Noah says. “Decent beer selection, though.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the Bears for you. Priorities, dude. It’s all about priorities.”

 

Kurt isn’t sure of the exact number of stadiums they’ll have been in at the end of four years, since some of that depends on which games they attend, but he’s quite confident they will be able to point out the location of the tunnels for many of the NFL stadiums. This week, they’re in New Jersey, though, almost due west of home, and Kurt curses again the bad luck that Finn couldn’t have gone to the Jets or the Giants. He wouldn’t have played as much with the Giants, of course, but still, home games at MetLife Stadium instead of Soldier Field would have been nice. 

No one gives them any odd looks as they slip into the tunnels, and they stop several hundred feet and a turn away from the visitors’ locker rooms. “Surprised more guys don’t do this,” Noah says, leaning against the wall. “Guess if they all did, though, it wouldn’t be quiet.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, looking around the corner once and then standing beside Noah. “Not as quiet, anyway.”

They only wait a few minutes before Kurt hears footsteps, and then Finn comes around the corner. He approaches them with a wide grin and a slight swagger. “Hey, you found me!” 

“Jersey’s good for something,” Noah says, laughing. “Like easier to navigate tunnels.”

“I’ve only got about two minutes,” Finn says, reaching out to grab each of them by the front of their shirt and pulling them in close. “But I’m coming home with you after, so you’d better wait for me.”

“The scandal of it,” Kurt says, putting his arm around Finn’s waist. “The quarterback riding on public transit after the game.”

“No paps on the bus,” Noah points out, his fingers grabbing Kurt’s as they lean on Finn. “No one looking for us. Just a few Bears fans heading back into the city.”

“I was thinking about snagging a Jets cap while nobody was looking. Think it would be a good disguise?” Finn asks. 

“They might think you’re Mark Sanchez back again,” Noah says, shrugging. “But other than that, yeah.”

“Nah, I’m way taller than him,” Finn counters, then pulls Kurt up into a rough kiss. 

“We’ve noticed,” Noah says as Kurt pulls away slowly, running his hand through Finn’s hair.

“Better looking, too,” Kurt says, smiling. Finn rolls his eyes and turns to Noah for a kiss. Noah grabs the front of Finn’s jersey as they kiss, and when they separate, Kurt suppresses a grin. One of the strangest things about football in his opinion is how so many of them look pristine at the beginning of the game, only to look so much less than pristine within minutes. When they’re at a game, though, Finn usually looks at least a little rumpled from the very beginning. 

“We’ll meet you at the door,” Noah says, tilting his head down the tunnel towards where they entered. “Try not to let the game run over, okay? We have plans.”

“I’ll do my best to keep the clock running,” Finn promises, then he glances back in the direction he originally came from. “Gotta go.”

“Be good,” Kurt and Noah say together.

Finn starts walking away backwards, still smiling at them. “I’m always good,” he says, before he turns around and rounds the corner back towards the locker room. 

The two of them don’t hurry on the way back; kick-off is still far enough away that they don’t need to. Noah stops and gets them each a beer, and Kurt considers food before deciding against it. They’re nearly back to their section when a man stops them and asks for ID. It’s not a normal procedure, but he doesn’t seem upset, so they get out their drivers’ licenses and then continue.

“Baby,” Kurt says, stopping in his tracks. “There are… Secret Service men here.”

“Holy shit,” Noah breathes. “Well, he did give that interview. You think it’s really Hillary?”

“I have no idea,” Kurt admits, starting to walk down the stairs again. He doesn’t get very far before he stops again and grabs Noah with his free hand. “Fuck. It is.”

“That is so cool,” Noah says, his voice still quiet. “Wait, isn’t that our row?”

Kurt giggles helplessly. “I guess all of Finn’s tickets are in the same row.” The Secret Service guy at the end of the row just nods to them, and Kurt nods back, even though he has no idea if that’s what he’s supposed to do. Hillary is sitting at the end of the row, a Secret Service agent on either side of her, and Kurt sits down in his seat, then looks over at Noah. 

“We probably shouldn’t ask the president-elect if she’s a Bears fan or a Giants fan, should we?” Noah whispers. “What if she said Giants?”

“Well, I still wouldn’t go back and change my vote,” Kurt answers, giggling again. “But it’s probably best if we don’t. Besides, I think that one agent has on a Giants hat.”

Noah shakes his head. “Maybe they picked out agents specifically for this game. Don’t they do that?”

“No clue.” Kurt sighs. “If we were in some kind of movie, she’d send Finn four tickets to the Inauguration.”

“We’ll be warmer at home. Can probably see better on television anyway,” Noah points out, his body relaxing for the first time since they saw the agents, and Kurt lets himself relax as well, taking a drink of his beer. 

“True. Well, at least we have quite the story to tell years from now.”

“The time we sat down in the same row as Madame President-Elect Clinton, and were too overwhelmed to say hello.”

 

Noah slides away from the bar, cradling three bottles of beer and heading back to where Kurt and Finn were last standing. The standing in one place won’t last long, but they’ve only been inside Budapest for five minutes, tops. “Darling,” Noah says, draping one arm over Finn’s shoulder. “And blue eyes,” he finishes, handing a second bottle to Kurt and keeping the third one for himself. “Ready to dance?”

Finn tips up his bottle of beer and drinks most of it in a few swallows. He lowers the bottle again and says, “If you want to call it dancing.” 

“You have a better name?” Noah asks, draining half of his own beer. 

“Warming up for later?” Finn offers, grinning. 

“Not strictly necessary,” Kurt says as Noah stretches up and presses his lips against Finn’s. “You don’t usually _require_ a warm up, darling.”

Finn kisses Kurt deeply for a few moments before pulling away. “Yeah, but I like one,” he says. 

“You just like the kisses,” Noah says skeptically. “I don’t think you enjoy the rest of the ‘warm up’ at all.”

“Kisses are the best part,” Finn says, shrugging. “Watching everybody stare at Kurt on the dance floor’s pretty fucking hot, too, though.”

“Mmm, that is fun,” Kurt agrees, setting down his now-empty bottle. “Especially when we give them something to stare at.”

“We should do that, then,” Noah says, sliding one arm around Finn’s waist and grabbing Kurt’s hand with his free hand. “Dance and give them something to stare at, I mean.”

“Sounds awesome to me,” Finn says. He puts his arm across Noah’s shoulders and runs his fingertips down the back of Kurt’s neck. “Middle of the floor again, bossofme?”

“Unless we were finding a very dark corner,” Kurt agrees. “But that can probably wait until after we leave.”

“I like a dark corner, too,” Finn says. 

“I know,” Kurt says, pleased, and then he grabs Finn with his free hand, pulling Noah and Finn after him through the crowd. He doesn’t stop until they really are in the middle of the floor, and Kurt puts an arm around each of them, dragging them close. Noah puts both of his arms over Kurt’s shoulders, his fingers pulling at Finn’s shirt. Finn’s wraps one arm around Kurt, resting his hand on Kurt’s lower back, and reaches out the other to grab Noah’s hip. 

Noah moves with the music, letting Kurt set their rhythm and kissing the back of Kurt’s neck, and he closes his eyes for a moment. The music pounds around them, and he opens his eyes almost reluctantly, watching Finn and the side of Kurt’s face. Finn’s head is bent down, his face against the other side of Kurt’s neck, which almost definitely means more kisses. 

The song ends, silence echoing for two or three seconds, and in that moment, Kurt turns slightly. “I don’t think enough people are staring.”

“Then they’re crazy,” Noah responds, laughing for a second before nipping at Kurt’s earlobe. Finn pulls Kurt more snugly against his body, and the hand on Noah’s hip travels around and brushes against Noah’s cock through his pants. Noah grins and pushes his hips forward, nipping harder at Kurt this time, and he pulls at Finn’s shirt. Kurt thrusts against both of them, his head leaning back. 

Finn leans down to murmur something into the opposite ear from where Noah is nipping. Kurt smiles slowly, pulling at both of them before he speaks, shouting over the music. “I want all three of us _so_ hard and _so_ ready before we step out that door and hail a cab. I want everyone to _wish_ they were us.”

Finn laughs, and his fingers slide along the zipper of Noah’s pants, then slowly work the zipper down. Once Noah’s pants are unzipped, Finn slips his hand inside, palming Noah’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Noah groans, pushing against Finn’s hand. Finn grins at Noah over Kurt’s shoulder, then kisses the side of Kurt’s neck before saying something else into Kurt’s ear. Finn’s fingers close around Noah’s cock and he slowly pumps his hand up and down in time to the beat of the music. 

Kurt keeps moving against both of them, his head back and resting on Noah’s chest, and Noah can barely see Kurt’s fingers ghosting across Finn’s chest, going back and forth between Finn’s nipples. Kurt stops and slowly tugs once, and Finn’s head drops to rest against Kurt’s, his hand moving almost roughly on Noah’s cock. 

“One more song?” Kurt asks. “Or two?”

“One,” Noah can hear Finn groan. “Or now.”

“Are you hard enough for Kurt, though?” Noah asks. “He was specific.”

“Check and see, asshole,” Finn says. His hand slows on Noah’s cock, but he doesn’t pull his hand out of Noah’s pants. 

“Oh, I will,” Noah agrees, moving his hand deliberately slowly down Finn’s chest before putting his hand over Finn’s jeans, feeling Finn’s cock pushing back. “I think he is, blue eyes.”

“I suppose we could go,” Kurt says, running his tongue over his lips. “If you think enough people have stared at us.”

“If that guy over there doesn’t stop looking at you, I’m going to break his wrist,” Finn promises. 

Noah pulls Finn’s hand out of his pants and zips himself back up as Kurt starts maneuvering towards the door. “And then Kurt would convince the guy to apologize to you for making you do that.”

 

The Bears have a game on Thanksgiving, so it’s fairly late in the evening by the time the whole Hudson-Hummel family, plus the Puckermans, are assembled at a table at Cafe 312. Audrey is freshly changed post-game into a pretty green dress with an oversized sash that even Finn can tell is probably a little too large for a girl her age, especially a girl her age who is doing her best to climb Finn like a monkey climbing a tree.

“The shoes have to come off if you’re gonna stand on parts of me, Audie-Aud,” Finn says. 

“You’re my pirate ship!” Audrey says. “I’m the pirate.”

“That’s nicer than a lot of things I’d call him,” Hannah pipes up, grinning. “An inanimate object’s about right, though.”

“Yeah, well, if I’m a pirate ship, you’re a deserted desert island,” Finn shoots back. “Aud, man the cannons and shoot Hannah, will you?”

“Boom!” Audrey yells at the top of her lungs, causing the other people in the restaurant to turn and stare at them.

“Finn, Audrey,” Carole says, sighing heavily. “Audrey, you need to sit in your seat now. You can’t yell like that when we’re in public. Finn, please stop getting her worked up.”

“She’s not worked up, Mom,” Finn says. “She’s a pirate.” He does pull Audrey down from where she’s climbing up his shoulders, but before he puts her back in her seat, he whispers, “We’ll totally get you a good pirate hat and a sword tomorrow.”

“And a patch for my eye!” Audrey whispers back.

“Definitely a patch for your eye. Maybe a real parrot, too,” Finn says.

“No, Finn! They poop!” Audrey starts to giggle and then repeats, “They poop!”

Before Finn can answer that it’s true, they definitely do poop, Burt suddenly says, “So, what do you think about this Marquez kid who’s been on all the morning shows?”

Finn glances up at Puck, then over at Kurt. They haven’t talked about Marquez outright, but they watched part of one of the morning shows, and Finn knows that Puck has read all about him on those websites he loves so much. Marquez’s situation isn’t exactly like Finn’s—he wasn’t a quarterback, wasn’t a starter—but it still hits a little close to home, Marquez just playing the four years of his original contract before retiring, then coming out just a few months later. Marquez has a lot to say about the climate in the Steelers locker room and in the NFL in general, but no. Finn, Puck, and Kurt haven’t talked about it outright.

“Some people seem to think he’s exaggerating, but I don’t see why he would be,” Puck answers Burt. “There’s plenty of things out there that suggest he might even be downplaying some behaviors. Publisher’s not going to take a chance on him lying, and there’s what? Four of them? Trying to sign him up to write a book.”

“I just have a hard time believing it’s as bad as the kid says, though,” Burt argues. “It’s 2016! Things are better!” He turns to Finn. “It’s not like that in the Bears locker room, right, Finn?”

Finn fumbles for an answer that will satisfy Burt, but Kurt seems to realize Finn’s not finding a response fast enough, because he turns to Burt with his eyebrows raised. “Yes, Dad, legally speaking, things are definitely better, but you can’t legislate people’s attitudes. If that were the case, racism would have been eliminated before I was born.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to define the narrative in this case, anyway. If Marquez says it was that bad, then that’s his experience, and it’s valid.”

Finn tries to keep his sigh of relief from being audible, and he gives Kurt a small smile. Carole shakes her head beside Burt. “I don’t know, Kurt. Marquez is an adult who made a choice to play football, knowing what it would be like. I don’t think he has grounds for some of his complaints, since clearly he decided upfront that playing football and earning money was more important than being able to come out.” She pauses and takes a sip of water. “I mean, the Steelers or the NFL couldn’t force him _not_ to come out!”

As Carole finishes talking, Rina glances at Finn, almost seeming sympathetic, but then she looks at Hannah and her face shifts, so Finn can’t confirm that it _was_ a sympathetic look. Finn doesn’t have a response to either the look he possibly saw on Rina’s face or to what his mom just said, so he doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Well, I’m sure that they didn’t physically force him, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility that he felt forced to stay in the closet,” Kurt replies, his voice very neutral. “And I’m sure there are fans who would like to know what kind of culture the league is perpetuating.”

“It’s still his choice, though, Kurt,” Burt says. “It’s not like he didn’t have some idea of how it was going to be before he entered the draft. I’m not saying that it’s right he was treated like that, but I also don’t know that it’s bad like that everywhere. I mean, this is the Steelers we’re talking about! If he really wanted to keep playing, he could’ve ended up somewhere else once his contract was up.”

“I don’t know, Burt,” Puck says, shaking his head. “There’s not exactly any way for a gay player to contact other gay players and find out the details of being gay in the NFL. He might’ve thought it’d be hard, but not as bad it ended up being. And any team could be bad. Look at the Jets a few years back.”

“Nobody really tells you what to expect,” Finn says quietly. “You think it’s going to be a certain way, but it’s not really that way. They don’t explain any of that stuff when you sign the contract.” 

“See?” Kurt says to Burt, raising his eyebrow again. “No pre-draft briefing.”

“Well, I suppose they could do a better job preparing all the players for what it’ll be like,” Burt concedes. “But right now, I’m prepared for some turkey. I don’t think this place can be better than Sarabeth’s.”

“But it is better than Chinese food,” Kurt points out. “Definitely better than Chinese take-out.”

“I want fortune cookies for dessert!” Audrey says. 

Carole laughs. “Maybe tomorrow, Audrey. Tonight we’ll have some pie.”

 

Finn is walking out of the locker room, heading towards the player parking, when he’s stopped by the director of player development. “Hudson, let’s head upstairs,” he says nicely enough, but it’s clear it’s not a request. “Armory’d like to have a little chat.”

Since it’s not like Finn can really argue, he nods his head. “Sure. That’s fine,” he says. Nothing else is said on the walk to the GM’s office, and they walk right past Bill Armory’s administrative assistant with a nod of the director’s head. When they get to the door, he opens it for Finn, claps him once on the shoulder, and then walks back out of the office.

“Come in, come in,” Armory says, standing up behind his desk. “Shut the door behind you.”

Finn walks into the room and shuts the door behind himself. “Good afternoon, sir,” Finn says. “Everything ok?”

“Well, I’m sure it can be, with your help,” Armory says, gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk. Finn sits down awkwardly, not sure exactly how to arrange himself, because he’s not yet sure what the content of this meeting could be. His mind races over several possibilities, but nothing seems to be an obvious answer. “Now this meeting is confidential, of course.”

“Of course,” Finn parrots back. “What’s this about, exactly?”

“Let me be honest with you, Finn— I can call you Finn, right? There are some things that we’re hearing, things that people have seen, that aren’t really the image the Bears and its players need to have.”

Finn starts to sweat, and he thinks Kurt would probably be impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice. “What things are you talking about, sir?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” Armory says firmly, no longer smiling. “Let’s just get to the point. You need to stop going out with your, ah. _Brothers_.”

Finn frowns and rests his hands palm-down on his knees. “And why would I do that… sir?”

“Because the places that you’ve been seen – it’s starting to get around that Bluebird goes to the gay clubs.”

“I thought one reason the Bears organization wanted me to begin with was because I had a good relationship with the gay community,” Finn points out. “Everybody knew about my brothers and the Elevens. None of that’s ever been a secret. What’s the problem with me going out with them?”

“There’s a difference between being an ally and being— well, participating, let’s say,” Armory says, looking down at his desk. “Apparently the three of you were quite the regulars at one club the week of Thanksgiving. It’s getting enough attention that we’re not happy with it, Finn.”

Finn looks steadily at Armory, even though Armory won’t meet Finn’s eyes. “Sir, what I do with my private life is none of your business,” he says. 

“It’s not your private life, Finn. That’s the problem. We’re not saying you shouldn’t see your ‘brothers’.” Armory pauses to actually make air quotes. “We’re just saying you need to stop going out in public with them. The Bears don’t want this kind of publicity.”

“So, it’s fine for a player to support the gay community, but not be part of it, is what you’re saying,” Finn says. “The problem is that you don’t want a player that’s not straight?”

“That’s exactly right.” Armory meets Finn’s gaze now. “And just so we are clear, Hudson, I and the rest of the Bears organization can and will make your life a living hell for as long as you remain under contract with us.” He sits back, crossing his arms across his chest. “That’s why I’m telling you to stop going out with your brothers, whether it’s here or in New York.”

“You can’t do that!” Finn insists. “I’m not doing anything to make the Bears look bad, and you can’t—”

“We can. And here’s another thing we can do. You don’t have to marry the petite one—does she know, by the way?—but you damn well will make it look like you want to marry her.”

“What?” Finn sputters. “I have to _what_?”

“We’ve got a game on New Year’s Day. It’s at Detroit, not here, but it’d still be an awfully big, romantic stage for a proposal, don’t you think our fans would agree?”

“You want me to _propose_ to her?” Finn asks. “That’s insane.”

“That’s the price, if you refuse to keep your antics with your brothers out of the clubs,” Armory says firmly. “We have a jeweler here in Chicago that would love to donate a ring. We’ll send you a couple of pictures and get you the ring before Christmas.”

Finn can feel himself gaping. “You can’t make me do this,” Finn says flatly. 

“We can keep you on the bench for the rest of your contract, and make it so no other team wants to even think about signing you in three more years. All those endorsements can dry up as fast as they showed up, Hudson. We can’t force you to do it, but I think you understand how it’s in your best interests to play along.” Armory looks down and frowns. “Oh, another thing. Keep your shenanigans out of the gossip rags.”

“This is fucked up,” Finn mutters to himself. “This is so fucked up.”

“I’m sure your brothers have appreciated few people knowing who they are. Be a damn shame if someone wrote up a profile,” Armory says casually. “You and I know how rumors are. Rumors about you affect them.”

The stare Finn gives Armory is cold and hard. “You don’t mention them. Their names don’t show up in _anything_ , do you understand me?” Finn says, his hands shaking. He clenches his fingers on his knees to steady himself. “I’ll do what you want me to do, but their names don’t ever get mentioned.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Armory stands, suddenly smiling again. “Someone will get with you about that ring, Finn.”

Finn nods once and stands up, fists clenched at his sides. Armory extends his hand towards Finn, but Finn keeps his fists by his side, staring at Armory. 

“Fine,” Armory says, still smiling. “Have a good week of practice, Finn.” He gestures towards the door and then sits back down, picking up his tablet and clearly ignoring Finn’s presence. 

Finn opens the door and lets himself out, closing it behind him. He doesn’t acknowledge the administrative assistant as he walks past her and straight down to the parking lot. Only when he’s in his truck with his seatbelt buckled does he finally let some of the tension go out of his body, slumping forward to rest his head on the steering wheel. 

“Fuck,” Finn whispers. “Fuck,” he repeats, raising his voice, and he keeps raising it as he says, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” Now his hands are shaking too hard for him to steady them, but he still makes himself fish out his phone and call Puck. 

“Hey,” Puck answers. “We’re walking so it’ll be a minute before I can put you on speaker.”

“Hey. No, it’s probably better I’m not on speaker,” Finn says. 

“What’s wrong?” Puck says immediately. “Finn, what’s going on?”

“I got called up to Bill Armory’s office a little while ago,” Finn says. “Got ambushed coming out of the locker room and hauled up there for a sit-down.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything.”

“Somebody saw us out at the club. One night, more than one night, I’m not sure,” Finn says. “Armory didn’t like it, told me it had to stop.”

“What’d you tell him?” Puck asks. 

“I told him to go fuck himself, only I used politer words,” Finn says, laughing a little despite himself. The laughter fades quickly, though. “He wants me to propose to Rachel.”

“What?” Puck sounds incredulous. “That— how does that help anybody? Fake proposal for a fake relationship?” There’s a pause and then Puck says, “Yeah, I don’t know, K.”

“He wants me to make it some big public spectacle, do it at the game in Detroit on New Year’s Day,” Finn explains. “It’ll give the fans something _straight_ to get excited about, because apparently, that’s a huge fucking priority for the Bears organization, no matter what they said when they signed me. All that shit about the Elevens and how great that is, and you guys and the community, but…” Finn sighs. 

“But it was lies,” Puck finishes, not sounding all that surprised. “I guess Rachel won’t be able to argue that she’s not getting publicity out of it.” Puck pauses. “Wait, what’d he say? To get you to agree to that?”

“What didn’t he say? They’ll bench me. They’ll cut off the endorsements. They’ll make my life a living hell. They’ll— you get the picture,” Finn says. Bad enough that Armory threatened Puck and Kurt; they don’t need the additional stress of knowing about it, not when Finn is going to do what Armory wanted, propose to Rachel, to protect them.

“Huh.” Puck sighs. “Somebody who works for the Bears must’ve seen us.” 

“Yeah. Wasn’t just a guess, and it wasn’t just that I was there,” Finn agrees. 

“Fuck. Okay.” There’s another pause and the sound of a door opening and closing. “Okay, we’re home now, putting you on speaker.”

“Hi, darling,” Kurt’s voice says.

“Hey, Kurt,” Finn says. “I think I fucked things up.”

“Mmm, well, in this case, it sounds like you’re having things fucked up for you.” Kurt sighs a little. “It’s too bad there’s nothing to say to them, though.”

“You could hire a P.I. and have Armory followed?” Puck suggests.

“I don’t think it would make much of a difference,” Finn says. He cranks the truck’s engine. 

“Yeah, maybe not,” Puck agrees. 

“If you’re driving, we’ll hang up,” Kurt says. “We have to work, but if you want us to call when we get home.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I just had to get out of here. I couldn’t sit in the lot anymore. I just had to get out of here,” Finn says. 

“Okay, darling. We’ll talk to you then,” Kurt says. “We love you.”

“Yeah, drive safe, asshole,” Puck says. 

“I always drive safe, asshole,” Finn says. “I love you both, too.”

“Love you,” Puck echoes. “Be good.”

“I’m always good,” Finn promises, then ends the call and sets his phone down on the seat next to him and he pulls out of the lot and drives away from the stadium. On the drive back to the apartment, he stops by the grocery store for a container of vanilla protein powder and a bottle of Jameson; he can multitask and have a drink and a meal in one go. 

 

Kurt spends two afternoons in December with Rachel, talking to her about the faux proposal and finding appropriate attire for her to wear to the game. She’s being seated with the girlfriends and wives, of course, which means that he’s standing outside her box fifteen minutes before the game starts. “Don’t look directly at any of the cameras,” he lectures her. “Look at Finn and look at the ring. If you look at a camera, someone’s going to be able to tell you aren’t surprised at all.”

“Of course,” Rachel says, nodding.

“Look at Finn like he’s a Tony award,” Kurt commands her. “That should get the emotion about right. Look at the ring like it’s a callback for a revival of _Funny Girl_ , and they need someone for Fanny Brice. You have to sell them on this, Rachel.”

“Tony, _Funny Girl_ , Fanny Brice,” Rachel repeats breathlessly, and the look of absolute rapture on her face is just about right. 

“Pretend we’re back in the Gershwin, the first time we were in New York.”

“Okay. I can do this,” Rachel agrees, nodding a little. “I’ll sell them on it, I promise.”

Kurt nods and gives her a brief hug, then heads back to his own seats. He exchanges a rueful smile with Noah and sits between Noah and Audrey, Carole and Burt on Audrey’s other side. It’s a giant spectacle, all created because the idea of Finn not being straight is terrifying to the Bears. 

It’s equally terrifying to Carole, too, but Carole doesn’t have the same power over Finn. Noah and Kurt aren’t stupid; they heard what Finn didn’t say, in his litany of threats from Armory. There’s no way Armory didn’t threaten something that involved the two of them, though Kurt can’t be sure of the exact threat. 

“I’d actually rather be here than in a box,” Kurt says to Noah, who snorts and nods his agreement. “We can see better.”

“It’s nice of the Bears to put Rachel up in the box, though,” Burt says. “They’ve really done good by her and Finn, helping make up for the distance and all that.”

“It has to be hard on her,” Carole says sympathetically. “Both of them with such busy schedules.”

Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes or grit his teeth, smile still plastered on his face, but he hears Noah snort again. “I’m sure,” Kurt manages to get out. 

“There’s some Elevens,” Noah says almost abruptly, pointing a few sections away. “Nice they travel.”

“Poor Syd,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “I don’t envy her going to law school.”

“Oh, here they come!” Carole says excitedly, and Kurt squeezes Noah’s hand hard. The game gets started and while the Bears are doing okay, it isn’t their best game. Kurt pauses during the second quarter to be relieved that Burt and Carole don’t know what’s coming at the end of halftime, but he isn’t surprised when Noah disappears at the very beginning of halftime and comes back five minutes later with a bottle of water. 

“Okay?” Kurt whispers. 

“Yeah. This sucks.”

Kurt nods. “It really does.”

Five minutes before the end of halftime, the screen on the jumbotron focuses on the 50 yard line and some of the Bears players return to the bench. Kurt feels a little ill as a ‘special presentation’ is announced, and Finn walks to the middle of the field, followed by a camera man and someone holding a boom mic. 

“Ooh, what’s happening? What’s Finn doing?” Carole asks. “Kurt, do you know what’s going on?” Kurt swallows and shakes his head, because he can’t answer any questions. 

“So, uh. Hi,” Finn says, his image displayed on the jumbotron. “I’m Finn Hudson. I play for the Bears.” The Lions fans boo in response, but the group of Elevens seated nearby cheer and shout down at Finn, who continues, “And there’s a special person in attendance at the game tonight.”

“I think they wrote it for him,” Kurt says quietly to Noah, wincing. 

Noah nods. “Yeah, that’s clunky.”

“My girlfriend,” Finn continues, and Kurt can almost see Finn grit his teeth around the word, “Rachel, is up in that box up there. Hi, Rachel!”

A camera pans up to Rachel in the box. Her image appears on the jumbotron, looking overly startled. “You forgot to give her tips on looking surprised,” Noah whispers to Kurt. “She looks like she’s constipated.”

“But tonight I’m asking Rachel to be my wife,” Finn says. Kurt is sure there are only two people in the entire stadium who can hear the self-loathing in Finn’s voice, and Noah’s hand tightens around Kurt’s as Kurt thinks that. “I wanted this proposal to be as special and theatrical as you are.” The jumbotron goes to split screen, showing Finn on the left and Rachel, who seems torn between Tony-rapture and being startled, on the right. “So, Rachel Berry, will you marry me?” Finn finishes, as on Rachel’s half of the screen, a uniformed steward presents Rachel with a tray with a small box in the center. 

Rachel opens the box and does look at the ring inside it like it’s a callback or a Tony, and she slides it on her finger before beaming in Finn’s direction. “Yes!” she calls out, though there’s no microphone near her. 

Carole bursts into tears just seconds before the audience cheers, even the Lions fans. Kurt and Noah manage to clap, since Burt and Carole would no doubt find a failure to react problematic, quickly sitting back down beside Audrey. Down on the field, Finn forces his face into a broad smile.

“I’ll see you after the game!” Finn says, then he waves at the box where Rachel is seated and walks off the field, cameraman behind him. 

“Oh, I’m so happy!” Carole exclaims. “Audrey, you’re going to have a sister!”

“No, I want a cat!” Audrey says. Kurt makes a mental note to get Audrey a cat for her birthday or Christmas, and he wonders if they could exchange the cat for Rachel. 

“Oh, you’ll like having a sister,” Carole insists. “Don’t you like Rachel? Finn’s going to marry her! Oh, Burt, I’m so happy.” There’s a note of relief in Carole’s voice that makes Kurt narrow his eyes and sigh, the hand around Noah’s squeezing so hard it hurts. 

A couple of minutes pass before Kurt and Noah’s phones chime in sync with an incoming text, and they pull out their phones to check them. 

The text is from Finn, and Kurt sighs as he reads it. _I love you. I’m so sorry._ Kurt closes his eyes and leans his head on Noah’s shoulder. They’ll all do what they have to do, until Finn can chance cutting Rachel loose.

 

The phone calls start to creep a little earlier as the winter arrives and Noah and Kurt do better with the balancing act of work, school, and traveling. It's not anything particularly intentional, but they have classes most of the day and work in the afternoons or evenings, and early in the morning is an easy time, for them, to talk to Finn. 

The first time it happens, Noah doesn't think that much about it. There are a million reasons why Finn might not answer the phone as soon as it rings, and there are good reasons that Finn might sound under the weather as soon as he does answer it. While the three of them have all gotten flu shots religiously after their senior year experience, there's plenty of colds and other things going around, Noah figures. 

As days and then weeks go by, though, Noah starts to realize it's not that simple. Sometimes Finn doesn't answer the first time they call, voicemail starting, and they have to call again. Even when they don't, Noah and Kurt finally have to admit that the sound of Finn's voice isn't from a cold. 

It's from being hungover. 

They don't really understand at first; they've all gotten drunk together a few times, going out to one of their clubs and having a few too many before they get on the subway and ride home. And Finn will order a third or fourth drink, sometimes, even after they've stopped, but they've never witnessed any kind of drinking until he passes out, like Rachel had insisted happened in Lima back before their last year of undergrad. 

The phone calls, the headaches, and the drinks he consumes while they're on FaceTime together all start to add up, though, and eventually neither Kurt nor Noah can ignore the facts staring them in the face. They don't have to acknowledge it to anyone else, and they aren't sure what, if anything, they should say to Finn, but once they admit it to themselves, it's easy to see that Finn isn't handling Chicago well. 

Noah doesn't know what Finn expected in Chicago, but obviously, it's not what he's found, and having Finn isolated there – well, Noah can see where it's a bad thing for Finn. No Syd, no Jamie or Doug, and Noah and Kurt are still not in the same city. There's nothing they can really do to help with those facts; all they can do is travel or have Finn visit as much as possible. 

 

The conversations start out fine, and they usually go just great, but if Finn’s on the phone with just Puck for long enough, eventually the whole thing falls apart into a fight. It’s the same fight, the same fight every fucking time. Finn always thinks he’s finally made them understand, that they see what he’s doing and why, but then it’s this same fucking fight and he sees that no, they still don’t. 

“You aren’t stupid, Finn,” Noah says. “You knew it was a fucking trade-off.”

“Not like this, I didn’t,” Finn counters. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

“The rest of the world’s not like Wisconsin. The rest of the world’s more like fucking LSU. Including the NFL. Look at what happened to Sanchez, what’s happening to Marquez, that other guy a few years ago that couldn’t get signed, all because of rumors. You think that just came out of nowhere?”

“I thought it might start out rough, but it’s not like Wisconsin was perfect,” Finn says. “There was shit-talk in the beginning, but it just took a little bit of time and it stopped. I mean, fuck, Puck, we even changed _Lima_ , what’s one fucking football team?”

“’Cause it’s the fucking NFL, Finn.” Puck laughs humorlessly. “Fuck, I love you, but you’re not the pied piper, you know? It’s not one team, it’s thirty-two teams, sixteen hundred players, and over sixty thousand seats in every single stadium, plus all those people watching on television. You aren’t going to change that, and you had to know that. You picked the money.”

“I didn’t pick this! This isn’t what I picked!”

“No one forced you into it, you chose it!” Puck counters. “You _had_ a spot in grad school. You picked the money.”

“How was I supposed to pay for that spot in grad school, Puck? How much debt was I supposed to walk away from grad school with, when I could play for four years and never have to worry about owing anybody anything?” Finn asks. “It’s not like I had a chance to work and save.”

“I don’t know, the same way regular people pay for it?” Puck says. “Last I checked, K and I didn’t have a million dollars sitting around. Yeah, we worked through undergrad. And all of that got spent on life. We weren’t saving it.”

“I _told_ you I would pay for it. I’ll pay for anything you need if you’d just let me!”

“I don’t want the fucking Bears’ money!” Puck yells. “You think I want money from people that want us to disappear? Hey, I know. Maybe I’ll go ask the Boy Scouts for a scholarship, while I’m at it.”

“Dammit, Puck, it’s not the Bears’ money, it’s my money, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you it’s the part from Gatorade, how’s that? Would you fucking let me help you then?” Finn asks. “Or how about from the Starbucks commercial? Can I give you the money from the Starbucks commercial? You don’t have a problem with Starbucks.” Finn sounds calmer to himself than he actually feels. The hand not holding the phone shakes, so Finn walks over to the kitchen and pours himself another drink while he waits for Puck to answer him.

“I don’t want your money! I don’t want you to buy me off, dammit!” Puck yells. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck _you_!” Finn yells back. “I’m not trying to buy you off, I’m trying to help you! You’re the reason I’m fucking doing this to begin with!”

“I didn’t want you to fucking play for the NFL! Neither did Kurt! That was _all_ your fucking mother.”

“You sure never bothered to say you didn’t want it _before I fucking signed_!” Finn shouts. “God _dammit_!” With a loud roar of frustration, he throws his mostly-empty glass against the wall, where it explodes into shards. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Shit!” Puck says, his voice immediately changing from anger to concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I— fuck, it cut me, shit,” Finn mutters, looking at the mess of broken glass, ice, and splatters of whiskey on the kitchen floor. The spray of shattered glass was forceful enough to fly back and cut Finn’s cheek and hand. None of the cuts are deep, but they sting and they’re bleeding. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. Just… _fuck_.”

“Shit,” Puck repeats again. “Don’t try to pick it up right now, okay? Do you have shoes on, darling?”

“Yeah, I’ve got shoes on. Shit, Puck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Finn says, looking at the mess on the floor. It feels horribly symbolic or something like that. “I love you.”

“It’s okay, I know. I know. I love you, too. Get cleaned up and then you can sweep it up later, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that,” Finn says. “I love you. Tell Kurt I love him.”

“Okay, I will,” Puck promises. “We love you. Don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

“Ok,” Finn says. “Ok, I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Okay, darling. Be good.”

“I’m… shit, baby, I’m trying so hard to be good,” Finn says softly. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” Puck says equally softly before the call ends. 

Finn sets the phone down on the kitchen counter next to the bottle of Jameson, then picks the little pieces of glass out of his hand. He takes the bottle of Jameson with him to the bathroom, where he removes the small shard of glass from his cheek, then he carries the bottle to his bed, where he sits and takes a swig from it. He’s made a mess of everything somehow, and he can even see all the dozens of places where he went wrong, but he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. He still has three more seasons to play, and now he has a fake fiancée and bi-weekly fights with one of the two people he’s in a _real_ relationship with. There’s no obvious way out.

He keeps drinking straight from the bottle until his head is too heavy to hold up. He can hear his phone in the kitchen playing Puck’s ringtone, but the kitchen is full of glass, and it’s too far away, so the call will have to wait until the morning. Finn closes his eyes and lays himself back on the bed, and even though he can still feel a little trickle of blood on his face, it’s not _really_ anything to worry about. It can wait until the morning, too.

 

After Noah heard Finn throw the glass against the wall, after Noah listened to Finn losing it, and after Finn didn't pick up for hours afterwards, Noah knows something has to change. He and Kurt start discussing a few things, but the definite thing they do is convince Finn to come out to New York as soon as the OTAs in April are over. 

Noah thinks 'Organized Team Activities' is a dumb name to cover up that they're doing practices, but that's what they call it, so he just calls it OTAs and goes on. Finn can get there as soon as they finish and stay for a few weeks. Through the draft, they tell him; Sam will probably be in town, since he's supposed to go in the first round or high in the second round, and it's possible Doug will fly in since he's entering the draft this year, too. They can keep Finn occupied for awhile and it's not a permanent solution or even a long-term one, like some of the things they're discussing, but at least it's a stop-gap, something to cover a few weeks. 

They don’t end up contacting Sam or Doug either one, but they do sit on the futon and turn on ESPN’s draft coverage. Finn feigns interest, but his attention is mostly occupied by playing with the hair at the nape of Kurt’s neck, twisting one of Noah’s curls around a finger and pulling it to make it spring back, or absently running one of his hands down Kurt or Noah’s arm over and over. Ennis, curled up in Finn’s lap, looks irritated that everyone but him is getting petted. 

“Anyone else from Wisconsin in the draft this year?” Kurt asks Finn. 

“Hmm?” Finn says, glancing up at the TV. 

“Just wondered if you knew anyone else,” Kurt says softly. “Do you either of you want a snack?”

“We could pull out those chips and salsa?” Noah suggests.

“I’ll have a beer if you’re going in there,” Finn says. 

“Sure,” Noah answers, standing up, and Kurt frowns at him as he walks towards the kitchen. Noah shrugs a little and grabs the chips and salsa plus three beers; maybe Finn will eat. He has to eat something if he’s going to keep working out. 

Since he arrived in New York this time, Finn has gotten up early, gone for a run, then gone to a gym where he got a membership. The rest of the time that they’re in class or at work, Finn’s in bed. 

“Still no Sam, huh?” Noah asks when he sits back down and hands out the beers.

“No. Buccaneers are up next,” Kurt answers.

“They need a kicker,” Noah says, nodding. “Won’t take Sam.” Two slots later, the Dolphins are up, and they _do_ take Sam. 

“Twenty-third in the first round,” Kurt says. “Not too shabby.”

“Sam’ll be happy in Miami,” Finn says. His tone is uncomfortably flat, and he drains his beer in a few swallows. “It’ll be great for his hair.”

Kurt laughs quietly for a few seconds. “We should send him a case of lemons as a congratulatory gift.”

“And a trout,” Noah adds. “Maybe a fake one, though, since a real one would stink.”

Finn’s laughter comes a half a beat too late, and it’s faint at best, but at least he does laugh. “Poor Sam. It’ll be better for him than me, though. He’ll do ok. He’ll be fine.”

Noah leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, and he sees Kurt pick up Finn’s hand in both of his. It takes almost both of Kurt’s to cover Finn’s, actually. “I’m sorry, darling,” Kurt whispers.

“My choice,” Finn says with a slight shrug. “Or so I keep hearing.”

Noah straightens up and sits there for a long moment before he stands up. “Let me know if Doug ends up going tonight.” He picks up his phone, wallet, and keys, and heads out the door without saying anything else, but before the door closes, he can hear Kurt. 

“Dammit!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Finn says to Kurt. 

“Don’t tell _me_ ,” Kurt says, and Noah shakes his head, walking down the hall slowly. He walks around the neighborhood for about twenty minutes, stopping and getting a bowl of banana pudding, before he goes back to the apartment. When he gets there, Kurt’s still on the futon, watching the draft, but Finn’s back in bed again, face down on the mattress with Ennis curled up on his back, and Noah goes to put the banana pudding in the refrigerator without comment. Noah sits down on the futon with a heavy sigh, leaning against Kurt. 

“He won’t eat it,” Noah says, “but maybe he’ll actually chew something before he leaves.”

Kurt just looks sad, the light from the television making him look more pale than usual. “He said ‘I just miss him so fucking much, and I don’t know what to do about it’.”

“Not blaming me would be a good start,” Noah says, sighing heavily. “I’m tired of being told I should have made sure he didn’t enter the draft. Maybe that’s not what he means, but that’s what I keep hearing. That it was my fault.”

Kurt bites his lip and runs his hand through Noah’s hair. “I don’t know, baby.”

“I don’t know what to do either, blue eyes.”

“We’ll all go do something this weekend,” Kurt says, sounding as helpless as Noah feels. 

“Yeah.” Noah shakes his head. “Doug’s probably going to go in the third round. We might as well go to bed, too.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, standing up and pulling Noah with him. “We might as well.”

 

When Finn gets back to Chicago after Rina’s funeral, everything feels different in a way he can’t quite define. The apartment, which still looks more like a hospital room than a space someone lives in, feels either too big and echoing or too small and stifling; Finn isn’t entirely sure which. Since he put Puck and Kurt on the plane back to New York, he’s been overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, though what specifically he’s lost, he couldn’t say. It would be easy to explain it away as being about Rina, but something about it feels both deeper and less tangible than that.

The day after Finn gets back from Lima, he feels like he’s rattling around his apartment like a marble in a can, so he drives around until he finds a bar—any bar would do, as long as it’s not one he’s ever been to before, especially not with _them_ , and this one’s a smoke-filled dive that ignores the indoor smoking laws and probably the drinking age—and goes inside. He sits at the bar and drinks a beer slowly, and after a while, even though he doesn’t smoke, he asks the woman seated next to him if she has a cigarette.

She does have a cigarette, which she lights for him, and he drinks his beer and smokes the cigarette and listens to her talk to him about her ex-husband and her two kids, how the younger one doesn’t want to go to visitation anymore, but what can she do? Finn coughs a little as he smokes, but the mix of nicotine and alcohol gradually calms the restless feeling and muffles the loss. The woman offers him another cigarette, which he smokes, and keeps talking to him through two more rounds of beer, which Finn pays for. She doesn’t try to make a pass, she doesn’t ask for his number or offer hers; maybe, like Finn, she just needed somebody to sit with.

A half-hour or so after their last beer, the woman announces she has to leave, so Finn walks her to her car before getting into his own truck and driving back to the apartment. On the way there, he stops and buys a pack of cigarettes, and once he gets back, he opens his apartment window and smokes a cigarette while he drinks a glass of the 30-year-old scotch Victor gave him for surviving his first season. The scotch balances out the burn in his lungs from the cigarettes, and the combination feels quietly, satisfyingly self-destructive.

After he’s finished his scotch and his cigarette, he phones up Syd, expecting to get her voicemail, but just wanting to hear the sound of her voice. 

“Finn?” Syd answers, sounding surprised. “Hey. Hang on a sec.” The sound of music in the background cuts off. “Okay.”

“Hey, Syd,” Finn says. “How’s it hanging?”

“Elsewhere,” Syd says. “How’re you? How’s Noah? I would’ve come out, but exams.”

“No, he knows, he understands,” Finn tells her. “And he’s… in shock, still, I think. Rina wasn’t that old, so none of us were expecting anything like this. They’re getting Hannah, so that’s a lot dumped on them all of a sudden.”

“Congratulations on their brand-new teenager,” Syd says wryly. “Yeah, ouch. That is a lot. What about you?”

“What about me?” Finn asks. “Hating it that I’m eight hundred miles away from them, feeling useless because they won’t let me do more for them.” Finn sighs and considers pouring himself another scotch. “I feel like I failed them, Syd. Everything I wanted to do for them, and I can’t, because either they won’t let me or I’m not there.”

“Yeah,” Syd says slowly. “I don’t know, Finn. You guys still going to the beach in a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah, every year,” Finn says. “Maybe I just need some sunshine. It’s been so grey.”

“Don’t burn,” Syd chides him. “I had to read about this skin cancer litigation, and skin cancer is apparently worse than they have been telling us.”

“Kurt always picks out special sunscreen for each of us. Mine goes on so thick, it’s like wearing a T-shirt made out of sunscreen.” Finn laughs and adds, “But I’ll burn anyway.”

“I promise to represent you when you sue the sunscreen manufacturers in fifty years, then. Deal?”

Finn starts to say ‘I know I can trust you to have my back against the sunscreen manufacturers’, but all that comes out is, “I know I can trust you—” before his voice catches. 

“Finn?” Syd says, her voice dropping a little. 

“Sorry. Just lost my train of thought for a second or something,” Finn says. 

“That happens to me all the time,” Syd says cheerfully, though her voice is a little off. “Especially with tort.”

“Yeah, those things are pretty distracting. I like the ones with the kiwi slices on them. Those are fancy.”

“Ahh, there’s the Finn I know,” Syd says with a laugh. “I’m still allowed to hang out with you three one day of Pride, right?”

“‘Allowed’ in that way that means we’ll hunt you down and kidnap you and make you look at Puck in his ridiculous pants he likes to wear to Pride? Yeah, definitely.”

“Excellent,” Syd says, satisfied. “I’ll be in my finest dyke apparel.”

“So, same as every day?” Finn asks.

Syd laughs. “Exactly.”

 

Kurt feels like the moment they drove across the bridges that finished the trip to Pensacola Beach, a cloud lifted. Kurt would argue Finn is acting more like he’s eighteen than twenty-three, and it’s affecting Kurt and Noah as well. Kurt props himself up on his elbows and watches Finn and Noah in the waves, not sure what the point of their game is, though it involves yelling and wrestling with each other. They’re both smiling, though, genuinely smiling, and for the first time in a few months, Kurt feels hopeful. 

No one in Pensacola Beach seems to recognize Finn; no one wants to recognize any fellow vacationer, is what Kurt thinks it is. Phones get left in rooms and no one checks their email regularly. Kurt shakes his head and takes a drink of water, then looks back at Finn and Noah. Now Finn has his arms around Noah, holding Noah’s arms to his sides while he kisses him. Noah’s not exactly protesting, though, as Finn deepens the kiss. Kurt giggles and brings his hand to his mouth, whistling loudly. Finn breaks away to grin at Kurt, and then Noah uses Finn’s distraction to dunk him. Kurt giggles again and watches Finn come up spluttering. 

If they could stay at the beach, Kurt thinks for a moment, or at least stay in the same place. But in about a month, Finn will have to be back in Chicago, and Kurt and Noah will have Hannah in New York, which means Kurt continues drinking in the sight of Finn and Noah playing, trying to hold onto it and hoping they can take it home with them, somehow. 

 

They’ve only been back from the beach for a few days, and Noah has no idea what’s on the television while Kurt’s gone to his dance class and voice lesson. He’s curled up against Finn, though, and it’s possibly the longest they’ve gone without fighting for months, so he doesn’t really care what the television blares at him. 

“Are you watching this?” Noah finally asks. 

“I thought you were watching it,” Finn confesses. “I stopped paying attention twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m not even sure what it’s about.” Noah grins and lifts his head up. “You’d think we’d have learned by now that summer television is crap.”

“I think it’s about penguins,” Finn says. 

“Is it?” Noah shrugs and slides his hand under Finn’s T-shirt, running his fingers in a circle on Finn’s stomach. “Sure. Penguins.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Penguins.” Finn puts his hand on the back of Noah’s head, burying his fingers in Noah’s hair. 

Noah tilts his head forward, just enough to touch his lips to Finn’s, then closes his eyes, waiting for Finn to deepen the kiss. Finn increases the pressure of his lips against Noah’s, opening his mouth slightly and nudging Noah’s open, the tip of Finn’s tongue flickering into Noah’s mouth. His fingers tighten and relax again in Noah’s hair. Noah parts his lips and moves the hand under Finn’s T-shirt higher, stopping just below Finn’s piercing. 

Finn turns his body towards Noah’s, pulling Noah forward until he’s in Finn’s lap. Finn’s other hand traces down Noah’s spine while they continue kissing. Noah’s hand stays where it is for a moment, while Noah tries to decide what to do. It’s been four years, and it’s going to be two and a half more, and he can go out after Kurt gets home, so he thinks _Fuck the package deal_ and moves his hand, tugging at Finn’s nipple. He puts his other arm around Finn’s neck, dipping his fingers underneath Finn’s T-shirt. 

Finn breaks away from the kiss with a whine, looking at Noah face like he’s searching for something. “It’s just us,” Finn says, though he sounds like it takes tremendous effort to say it out loud. 

“Yeah,” Noah says, tugging at the piercing again. “I know. Get these clothes off of me.”

Finn’s face lights up, and Noah grins back at him, then Finn grabs Noah’s shirt by the hem and pulls it over his head, throwing it on the floor. He leans forward, Noah still in his lap, until Noah’s back is against the futon. Finn sits up and unfastens Noah’s jeans, leaning forward again to nuzzle the skin on Noah’s lower stomach as Finn tugs the jeans down. He kisses and nips at Noah’s skin, sending the jeans sailing to the floor, too. 

“Love you,” Finn murmurs against Noah’s stomach, still smiling. 

“Love you, too, darling,” Noah says. “Fuck me?”

“Soon,” Finn promises. He moves his head down, brushing his lips against the head of Noah’s cock, then running his tongue around it. Finn takes Noah’s cock in his mouth, his tongue lapping at the underside as he slowly works his mouth down the length. He holds Noah’s hips in his hands, squeezing as he pulls back again slightly, so his lips are just around the tip of Noah’s cock, before moving his mouth down again. 

“Fuck, Finn,” Noah manages, putting one hand in Finn’s hair. “Fuck, please, darling.”

Finn doesn’t stop moving his mouth up and down Noah’s cock, but he does reach under the end of the futon and fumble around until he comes up with a bottle of lube. He pours some into his hand, bumping his shoulder against Noah’s leg. Noah shifts his leg out of the way, and Finn pushes two fingers inside him, fast and a little rough, sliding them in and out in time to the movements of Finn’s mouth. Finn moves his head lower, until his nose is pressed against Noah’s stomach and Noah’s cock is nudging the back of Finn’s throat, and Finn curls his fingertips upwards, pressing and moving them in a small circle. 

“Shit, darling,” Noah pleads. “Inside me.”

The corners of Finn’s eyes crinkle as he pulls away, grinning and running his tongue across the tip of Noah’s cock one more time. “Love you, baby,” Finn says softly.

“I love you, too,” Noah replies, “but I still want you inside me.” 

Finn’s grin widens and he grabs Noah by the hips with both hands, flipping him over onto his stomach and repositioning him so his ass is in the air. Finn pours more lube into his hand and slicks himself up, then pushes hard into Noah, not stopping until he’s completely inside. Once he is, he leans forward, running one hand down Noah’s spine, around his side and across his chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I missed you so much,” Finn says. 

“Don’t move yet,” Noah says softly. “Don’t move yet, Finn.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need me,” Finn promises. He runs his hand back around to Noah’s shoulder, up his neck, and across his cheek. “Baby,” he whispers, when his fingers touch the tears on Noah’s face. Finn wraps his other arm around Noah’s chest, pulling him up onto his hands, and then Finn leans forward, draping his whole body across Noah’s, arm still around him, engulfing him. “My baby.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees. “Missed you too. Fuck, darling, missed you, missed this.”

“I miss you so much, Puck. I miss you so much, you don’t even—” Finn’s voice breaks and he makes that almost-strangled sound. He holds Noah tighter, and Noah can feel Finn’s body shaking slightly. “I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t know what to do.”

“I fucking love you,” Noah whispers. “You can move now.”

Finn starts to slowly rock his hips back. “I fucking love you, too. I’ve always loved you.” He snaps his hips forward. “Loved you when I was seven.”

“You can’t get rid of me,” Noah promises. “Fuck, just like that.” He pushes back, his own muscles shaking a little. 

“You feel so good, baby, so good,” Finn says, pulling back and slamming back into Noah. “Love being inside you.” He rocks back and thrusts forward again. “Feels like home. You’re home, you’re my home, baby. Love you.”

“Fuck Finn, I’m not going— not going to last long,” Noah admits. “Love you fucking me.”

Finn’s hand wraps loosely around Noah’s cock as Finn keeps fucking him, kissing the back of Noah’s neck and his shoulders every time Finn slams into him again. “Puck, baby. Baby. Fuck, I don’t want it to stop, I don’t want it to be over, want to stay here with you, inside you, baby, baby, oh _fuck_!” Finn’s hand tightens on Noah’s cock and he thrusts in hard, crying out as he comes inside of Noah. 

“Oh, fuck,” Noah almost whines, pushing into Finn’s hand twice before he comes, half-collapsing forward onto the futon. “Fuck, Finn, Finn,” he says, closing his eyes. Finn shifts some of his weight to the side, sliding out of Noah as he drapes himself across Noah’s whole body again. Noah can feel a few hot tears drop onto the back of his neck as Finn press his lips to the side of Noah’s neck. Finn’s arms wrap around Noah’s chest, pulling him even closer against Finn’s body.

“I love you,” Finn says. “My Puck. My baby.”

“Yours,” Noah agrees, nodding against Finn. “Love you, Finn.” His voice sounds odd to himself, and Noah realizes he’s crying, too. Finn nuzzles his face into the back of Noah’s neck and holds him even tighter. They stay there for a long time, and Noah hears Finn’s breathing even out after awhile. “Finn?” Noah whispers, then smiles to himself when Finn doesn’t answer. Noah doesn’t fall asleep, but he does close his eyes and concentrate on the feel of Finn around him. He knows why they have the package deal, knows why they’ll have to go back to it, but for a few hours, none of that matters. For right now, it’s just him wrapped up in Finn’s arms, and he’s going to enjoy it for as long as he can. 

Noah stays there until the clock insists Kurt will be home in just five or ten minutes, and he manages to wiggle out of Finn’s arms. He bends over and kisses Finn again while Finn keeps sleeping, then he goes to the bathroom and gets dressed, and heads towards the door just as he hears Kurt approaching. Noah opens the door and grins at Kurt, grabbing him by one wrist and tugging him forward. 

“Have fun,” he whispers in Kurt’s ear, then moves his mouth to Kurt’s, kissing him hard. Kurt looks startled when Noah releases him, then Noah can see realization dawn on him. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” Noah adds, picking up his backpack and stepping out of the apartment, and the last thing he sees before the door closes is Kurt grinning widely. 

 

Finn feels fingers running through his hair. Puck isn’t wrapped in his arms anymore, which gives Finn actual pain in his heart, but he knew he couldn’t keep Puck there forever, however much he wanted to. The fingers in his hair feel like Kurt’s, and Finn moves his head into the touch, eyes still closed. 

“Hi, darling,” Kurt whispers, then his lips are against Finn’s, kissing him softly. 

Finn lets his eyes open partially, and he smiles against Kurt’s mouth. He puts his arms around Kurt, runnings his hands over Kurt’s bare skin, then pulls Kurt down on top of him. “Hey,” Finn says, his lips still touching Kurt’s. 

Kurt giggles and shifts his weight slightly. “Mmm, what shall we do, darling?”

Finn’s smile widens. “Anything you want to do, bossofme,” Finn says. 

“Now that’s quite a promise, Finn,” Kurt says. “Anything at all?”

“Anything you want,” Finn says. “Just tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

“What if I told you to hold me down and fuck my mouth?” Kurt asks. 

Finn was already starting to get hard, but that gets him all the way there. “Fuck,” he says, almost under his breath, then he says, “I would do it, if that’s what you want. I’d step into the bathroom and wash up real quick first, but if that’s what you wanted, I’d do that. I’d do anything you wanted me to do, Kurt.”

Kurt shifts to the side, off of Finn, and raises his eyebrow. “Okay, go do that then.”

Finn gets up and walks into the bathroom, quickly washing himself off. While he’s in there, Kurt calls, “And leave some bruises!”

Finn puts one hand on the edge of the sink to steady himself. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers. He dries himself off and walks back to the futon to stand next to Kurt. “That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want first,” Kurt replies. Finn nods and takes a step, so he’s standing directly in front of Kurt perched on the edge of the futon. Finn slides both his hands into Kurt’s hair and pulls his head forward. When Kurt doesn’t open his mouth, Finn hesitates, looking down at Kurt. Kurt nods once, and Finn relaxes. He wants to give Kurt what he wants, so he moves one hand from Kurt’s hair to his face, using his thumb to pull down on Kurt’s bottom lip, gently forcing his mouth open. 

Kurt’s eyes close, and Finn uses the hand on the back of Kurt’s head to pull him forward, letting the head of his cock brush against Kurt’s lips. Kurt’s tongue darts out, licking across the tip of Finn’s cock, then disappears back inside Kurt’s mouth. Finn moans quietly and moves his hips forward at the same time as he pulls Kurt towards him, slowly sinking his cock into Kurt’s mouth. He returns his other hand to the back of Kurt’s head, guiding it back and then forward again.

“Oh, fuck, Kurt,” Finn says. “Oh, _fuck_.” Kurt doesn’t struggle or help, he just lets Finn continue guiding his head, which Finn does with increasing speed, at first trying not to thrust too deeply into Kurt’s mouth. When he looks down and sees Kurt’s mouth around him, his eyes still closed, and how hard Kurt’s cock is, Finn thrusts into Kurt’s mouth with more force, gripping Kurt’s hair tightly. “God, Kurt, you’re so fucking beautiful, your mouth is so fucking beautiful,” Finn says. He watches his cock disappear into Kurt’s mouth again and again, and the whole effect is enough to bring him to the edge too quickly. “Shit, Kurt, I’m close already,” he whines. “Do you want me to keep going? Or stop?”

Kurt moves his tongue, pressing it against the underside of Finn’s cock, but doesn’t otherwise respond. That seems like a clear signal to keep going, though, so that’s what Finn does, fucking Kurt’s mouth faster and harder until he can’t hold back anymore, and he starts to come with a loud cry, holding Kurt’s head in place. Kurt swallows around him, eyes still closed. Finn releases Kurt’s head and pulls back, running his thumb across Kurt’s swollen lower lip. Kurt still has a tiny drop of come at the corner of his mouth, and Finn leans over and licks it away, then runs his tongue along Kurt’s lower lip.

Kurt’s eyes open and he smirks up at Finn. “Hi, darling.”

“Hey, bossofme. I did what you said.”

“Yes, you did.” Kurt takes Finn’s hand and tugs on it, gesturing beside him. “Should we find a way to take care of this?” he asks, gesturing to his cock. 

“Anything you want,” Finn says, grinning as he sits down next to Kurt. 

“So many choices,” Kurt says, putting his hand in Finn’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Do you want me inside of you, darling?”

“Yes,” Finn says. “I just want— _yes_ , Kurt. Please.”

“Do you want to lie down on your back? Or your side?”

“However you want me,” Finn says. “I want you however you want me.”

“Lie on your back,” Kurt says. He picks up the bottle of lube and hands it to Finn, then sits back on his heels. Finn lies back, keeping his eyes on Kurt, and waits. “I want to watch you,” Kurt tells him. “I want to watch you put your fingers inside yourself.”

Finn can feel his face flushing slightly; that’s not something Kurt has ever asked for. Still, he pours lube onto his fingers, still watching Kurt. “How many?” he asks.

“Start with one.”

Finn moves his legs up and, still watching Kurt’s face, puts his hand between his legs and slowly pushes one finger into himself. The angle is awkward, but the look on Kurt’s face makes it worthwhile. Finn slides his finger in and out of himself. “Is that right?” Finn asks Kurt. “Is it what you want?”

“Yes, darling,” Kurt assures him. “God, you’re so beautiful, Finn.” Kurt puts one hand on Finn’s leg, rubbing it slowly. “So gorgeous. I love you.”

“I love you,” Finn responds. “I love you so much, Kurt.” Finn’s cock is already getting hard again, more from Kurt talking to him than anything else. 

“Put another finger inside you,” Kurt tells him. “God, I want to be inside you so badly. Look at you. You’re getting hard for me again. I loved having you fuck my mouth, darling. It felt so good. I love the way you taste.”

Finn pushes a second finger inside himself, letting out a low whine as Kurt talks to him. “I want you inside me, Kurt,” he says. “Whenever you want me. Just tell me.”

“I _always_ want you,” Kurt says softly. “So good. You’re mine, aren’t you, darling?”

“I’m yours,” Finn answers. “I’m yours, Kurt. I belong to you.”

“Yes.” Kurt shifts forward, raising off his heels. “Put some lube on me.”

Finn slides his fingers out of himself and pours some lube into his hand, leaning up to run his hand up and down Kurt’s cock. “I love you, Kurt. I’m yours,” Finn says again. 

“I love you too.” Kurt pushes slowly inside Finn, stopping once he’s completely inside. “Right here, Finn. This is where I belong. You feel so good, so tight.”

Finn cries out, louder than he means to, and he tightens involuntarily around Kurt. “Fuck, Kurt,” he breathes. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Kurt warns, starting to move slowly. “Oh, god, I love this. Love being inside you, love fucking you, my darling. Always my darling.”

“Yes,” Finn agrees. “Fuck, Kurt, please. Harder. Please, please?”

Kurt thrusts in harder, increasing his speed as well. “So good, Finn. So tight around me, you’re so perfect.”

Finn’s only response is a whine, and he lifts his head off the futon, hoping Kurt will kiss him like he needs to be kissed. Kurt smiles and leans forward, kissing Finn almost harshly as he keeps thrusting into him. Finn moves his tongue against Kurt’s and puts both his arms around Kurt, holding him close for a moment while Kurt keeps fucking him. He brings one of his legs up to wrap around Kurt’s hip. 

Kurt pulls back, whispering against Finn’s lips. “When you come, I want you to bite me.”

Finn whimpers and nods. “Anything,” he promises. “Anything, Kurt.”

“You have to bite me hard,” Kurt says, still thrusting into Finn. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Finn says. “I promise. Anything. Fuck, Kurt, I’ll do anything for you.”

“I know, darling,” Kurt assures him. He pushes into Finn three more times, then says, “Now, Finn, come for me, now.”

Kurt hasn’t touched Finn’s cock the entire time he’s been fucking Finn, but that doesn’t make a difference. Kurt says to come, and Finn starts to come, hard, and he leans up to sink his teeth into the juncture of Kurt’s neck and shoulder, putting force into the bite, his shout muffled against Kurt’s shoulder. He can taste the faintest hint of blood in his mouth, his come is splattered across his stomach and chest, and Kurt cries out loudly, thrusting a final time into Finn and coming deep inside him. 

“Oh, god,” Kurt whimpers a moment later, collapsed on top of Finn. “Oh, god, darling, that was so good. You’re so good.”

“Are you ok?” Finn asks. Kurt’s shoulder is red and swelling where Finn bit it, the skin slightly torn in spots. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’ve never been high,” Kurt says, “but I think I feel high right now. Oh, god, Finn. I love you. I love you so much.”

Finn reaches up to stroke Kurt’s hair. He feels a little high, too, but underneath it he can feel the sadness creeping in, that it won’t be like this all the time. He knows this isn’t the end of the package deal, just an unexpected break. “I love you, too, Kurt. So much.”

Kurt reaches up and presses two fingers against the bitemark, hissing and then giggling. “You did so good. So wonderful.”

Maybe Finn shouldn’t feel as proud as he does over biting Kurt, but it’s what Kurt wanted, and Kurt’s happy about it, so maybe he _should_. Whether he should or shouldn’t, he _does_ feel proud. He kisses the top of Kurt’s head. “I just want to give you what you want,” Finn says. “That’s all.”

“And you did, darling,” Kurt promises. “You did. Thank you.”

Finn puts his arm around Kurt and holds him tight. “I love you,” he says softly. 

“I love you, too,” Kurt says, kissing Finn again. “So much, my darling.”

 

Kurt sees Noah's eyes narrow at the bitemark and the blood when he comes home, but he doesn't say anything, not when they all pile into the bed and not until after Finn is asleep, worn out by both of them. 

"Kurt," Noah says dubiously. "What the hell?"

"I asked him to," Kurt hisses back quietly. "It's fine, baby."

"I don't like it," Noah admits, frowning. 

"Well, you don't have to," Kurt concedes. "It's not like this is going to happen again anytime soon. And even before, it was still mostly the _three_ of us."

"Yeah, I know." Noah sighs. "I guess I'd just rather not see it right away," he explains. "So, you know. When it does happen again. Someday."

Kurt nods. "Okay. I understand. We'll figure out a good solution by then. What was it Michelle said?"

"That it's not one relationship, it's four?" 

"Yes. That."

"We're really good at two of them," Noah says quietly. "It's the other two we'll have to strengthen. And then balance all four."

"We did it once without conscious effort. Or close to balanced, anyway. We'll just have to keep this kind of thing in mind." Kurt touches the bitemark again, trying not to smile, and Noah does his best not to wince.

If that's the biggest obstacle they have after Finn comes home, then they'll be fine, and Kurt reaches for Noah's hand across Finn's back. 

"Good night, baby."

"Night, blue eyes," Noah responds, squeezing Kurt's hand. "And we will be okay."

Kurt giggles. Noah's right. They'll be fine.

 

Nothing about the whole fake dating—fake _engaged_ now—situation is ideal, but without any pressure for it to turn into real dating, Finn is able to relax and enjoy spending time with Rachel. It’s partially the nostalgia factor, he’s sure, but Finn always did actually _like_ Rachel back in high school, once he got past the overbearingness and drama. When they’re out on their fake dates in New York, they go to fun places and Finn usually has a good time, especially since when the fake dates are over he gets to go home to Puck and Kurt.

“So this is about feminism in Nepal?” Rachel asks as they approach MOMA. “And this screening is the North American premiere? Does that mean the filmmaker herself will be here? Ooh, that should be exciting,” Rachel says. “I admit, I didn’t know Nepal really had a feminist movement.”

“Well, I don’t even really know where Nepal is, so you’re still one up on me,” Finn confesses. “We can eat at the cafe after, if you want. I wanted to look at the Annie Leibovitz exhibit that Syd told me I should check out, too.”

“Oh, sure. They have a few vegan offerings,” Rachel agrees. “Though almost everywhere in the city does. I forget sometimes when I go back to Lima that not everywhere does.”

“Yeah, going back to Lima is always a little strange,” Finn says. “Jarring, I guess?”

“Yes, a little bit,” Rachel says. “How are Noah and Hannah doing?”

Finn shrugs. “Puck’s as good as he can be, I guess. They’re trying to get everything ready for Hannah to move. Mom says Hannah’s doing great in Lima, but I think part of that’s her trying to show they should let Hannah keep staying there.”

Rachel shakes her head slightly. “Rina made it clear that she wanted Noah and Kurt to be her guardians, from everything you and they have told me. Your mom’s great, Finn, but she needs to respect Rina’s wishes.”

Finn nods. His mom is great in lots of ways, but when it comes to putting what other people want first, she falls down in a big way. He knows she really thinks what _she_ would choose for people is what’s best for them, but the older he gets, the more he realizes that sometimes her perception of ‘best’ is skewed by how badly _she_ wants something. Finn entering the draft. Hannah staying in Lima. Finn marrying Rachel. So many things that Carole thinks are for the best, Finn sees are anything but what’s best.

Still, when Finn is out with Rachel, there’s no need to let things get heavy or too serious, so Finn smiles at Rachel. “I think Hannah’s going to take New York by storm. I hope Kurt and Puck are ready!”

“I hope _Manhattan_ is ready!” Rachel says. “Have they looked into sending her to one of the private schools?”

“I think they’re putting her in the public school, the one that’s for cooking?” Finn shakes his head. “The idea of a whole school that's just for cooking or music or whatever, that’s awesome.” As they’re walking down the street towards MOMA, Finn pulls out a cigarette and lights it. 

“Finn!” Rachel exclaims. 

“What?” Finn says. “Wind’s blowing in the other direction from you.”

She makes a face. “That’s so bad for you.”

“I work out for hours every day and I pretty much live off specially-formulated protein powder,” Finn says. “So I’ve got one thing that’s bad for me. It’s just until I’m done in Chicago, then I’ll quit.”

“If you can by then,” Rachel says darkly, shaking her head. “Well. Here we are!”

“Ok, just give me a sec,” Finn says. He stands there for a few minutes, finishing his cigarette, then stubs it out and tosses the butt into the trash. “Alright, photographs and Nepal and vegan food, coming up,” he says, offering Rachel his arm.

 

Finding a listing for a three-bedroom apartment still in the Upper West Side hadn't been the difficult part, but finding one they could afford in a part of the Upper West Side they liked had been a concern. They were lucky enough to be able to pay double rent for July, so they didn't have to be out of the old apartment on the last day of June, at least. 

In the end, they'd found a place just three blocks north, sandwiched between Amsterdam Avenue and Columbus Avenue. They sign the lease and get keys on the first, which gives them a few days before Finn leaves to move and decide what they need to buy. The kitchen has room for an actual table in it; there's a living room and three bedrooms, and the only one they're waiting on is Hannah's, planning to take her to Ikea after she arrives – though Kurt is hoping she'll want the loft bed, so they can get a larger one for their bedroom. 

Burt ships most of Hannah's stuff after the first, though Hannah won't fly out until the fifth, and Kurt looks around the boxed-up apartment before looking out the window in the kitchen. The summer has been better than Kurt expected it to be, back in April, or even after Rina died in May. Finn has to leave too soon after Hannah arrives, but they'll see him again for the preseason, and even if Noah and Finn fight again, they're all on steadier ground. 

Maybe they had just needed the school year to end. Maybe Finn had just had too much time on his hands. Maybe next spring he could start some of his grad school classes, and maybe if Kurt can convince Noah to let Finn pay for it, they can take a longer trip to Pensacola Beach next June. 

Still, this wasn't the way they wanted to move from this apartment. When they went to a bigger apartment, they'd wanted it to be because Finn was finally in New York with them; instead, he's still in Chicago and technically faux-engaged to Rachel. 

“Hey, bossofme? Do these boxes need labeled before I carry them down to the U-Haul?” Finn calls out, interrupting Kurt’s thoughts. Finn has a stack of three heavy boxes in his arms. 

Kurt frowns and picks up a marker, scribbling quickly on the side of each of them. “How did we fit so many boxes’ worth of stuff in this apartment is what I can’t quite figure out.”

“I figured it was like a Slinky effect, where it doesn’t look that big when it’s bunched up, but once you let go of it, it takes up a lot more room,” Finn says. “Ok, get the door for me, somebody!”

Noah laughs and opens the door. “If it were the Slinky effect, we could just set the boxes at the top of the stairs and they’d walk themselves down.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” Finn calls over his shoulder as he heads towards the stairs. 

“Did you try convincing Hannah about the loft bed again?” Kurt asks Noah as he walks over to another stack of boxes. “Because if you did, we can all crowd on the futon one more night and not have to set it up yet.”

“She says she’s ‘eighty percent’ convinced.”

“You two and your math.” 

Finn comes tromping back up the stairs and into the apartment, sweat rolling down his face. “So, did you pick the hottest day of the year to move because you like to see me sweat or because you were worried I was putting on weight?”

“Because we were hoping the sweat would make you take off your shirt,” Kurt answers. “Really, darling, what other answer would there be?”

“Two of you always objectifying me,” Finn grumbles, but he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it in the floor before bending to pick up another stack of boxes. “Usually I get paid for that kind of thing, you know.”

“Yeah, but we get the discount rate!” Noah yells over his shoulder as he walks toward the kitchen. “And we pay in pop and take-out!”

“Whatever, dude,” Finn says, hoisting the boxes a little higher before heading towards the door. “You’re paying in sex and back rubs.”

“We can always mix those together,” Noah says cheerfully, returning with three cans of pop. “Maybe not the pop and sex, though.”

“Well, get the door for me and I’ll at least have the pop when I get back up,” Finn says, jerking his head towards the door. 

Kurt opens the door this time, gesturing grandiosely. “Pop and kisses?”

“As long as they’re doled out at my standard rate,” Finn answers, then heads back down to the U-Haul again.

“We might have to pay him after the job’s done, then,” Noah says. “Otherwise we’ll all get distracted.”

“True. We should provide the take-out portion of the payment soon, though, because _I_ am getting hungry.”

“Don’t tell Finn, he’ll say you haven’t worked enough,” Noah teases. 

“Packing clothes is hard work,” Kurt counters, grinning. 

“Ok, you guys,” Finn calls, as he walks back into the apartment. “Your boxes are loaded. Pay up!”

 

Everything seemed so good in New York. Everything _always_ seems so good in New York, but this time, Finn really thought the feeling would carry over to Chicago, that he could keep that hopeful, happy feeling going. Once he’s back in Chicago, though, in that sterile white apartment, everything good feels like it’s eight-hundred miles away again.

That one day of cheating on the package deal, that was the best day Finn’s had since he entered the draft. Not just because the sex was great, because it’s always great with all three of them together, too, but because he got to have that one-on-one connection with each of them that he’s been missing for years now. He felt like he was finally healing things with Puck, like they were finding a way to understand each other again, to love each other without all the anger and resentment, but it’s all going to hell again already, after Finn’s back in Chicago for barely a week.

He’s at a bar, one of the ‘acceptable’ bars for him to be seen at in Chicago, when his phone rings with Puck’s tone. He puts the phone to his ear and his hand over his other ear, to block out the noise of the bar. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Puck’s voice sounds flat. “I saw some interesting pictures online.” 

“I swear, I threw that hat away as soon as I saw those!” Finn says. “Tell Kurt I’m sorry, and I’ll never wear it again!”

“Yeah, Kurt hasn’t seen the ones I’m talking about, and I’m hoping you have a really good explanation I can give him before he does,” Puck says. “I’m talking about the ones of you outside MOMA.”

“That’s the day me and Rachel went to see that movie about Nepalese feminists.”

“Yep. Think _real_ hard about what you were doing before you went inside, asshole.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, asshole,” Finn counters. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh, just the fucking _cigarette_ you’re smoking.”

“Oh,” Finn says.

“Yeah, ‘oh’, so. You want to explain that?” Puck demands. 

“Not really, no,” Finn says bluntly. 

“Okay, so, I’ll just tell Kurt it’s yet another one of your selfish decisions. Great. Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” Finn says, gripping his glass tightly. “Did I smoke around you? Did I come home smelling like smoke? No, I fucking didn’t, so it doesn’t have anything to do with you. If I want to smoke, I’ll fucking smoke.”

“Nothing to do with us, huh?” Puck almost growls. “Nothing to fucking do with us. It’s just your fucking long-term health, but _that_ has nothing to do with us. Got it. I get _that_ message loud and clear.”

“It’s just until I’m done with Chicago,” Finn insists. “It’s just— I feel better. Calmer. It gives me something to do with my hands besides wanting to hit something.”

“And when they guilt you into another contract, and another one, how many fucking years is it going to add up to be?” Puck yells. “Stupid, stupid, I’m so fucking stupid. Just until this. Just until that.”

“I’m not signing another contract, Puck, I told you that. I’m done in three seasons, and that’s it for me. Then I’ll be in New York and done with all this shit. You’re not stupid, but quit talking to me like I’m stupid!”

“I keep believing you!” Puck says. “I keep fucking believing you. And they already got you into the draft in the first place. Either they pulled you into it and they could do it again, or you made your own fucking choice to fuck everything up.”

“Oh, fuck you, Puck! Are we doing this again? You _know_ what my first choice would be, but I can’t just think about what I want to do right this fucking minute!” Finn says into the phone, his voice rising. The bartender raises an eyebrow at Finn, and Finn points to his glass to indicate he wants another, then he shakes his head and holds up two fingers. He’ll want another after the another he’s about to have. 

“Why the hell _not_?” Puck yells. “Why the fuck not? What is it about _you_ that you can’t make your own choices and decisions?”

“I have other people to think about than just me and what I want!” Finn shouts back. When the bartender sets down his two drinks, Finn picks one up and slams it back in a single swallow. “I have to think about everybody, what’s good for everybody, how to take care of the people I love, not just making myself happy all the time!”

“Well, fuck you, I guess I know where we rank, then.”

“Oh, the fuck you do,” Finn says. He picks up the other drink and tosses that back, too. “Not if you’re talking to me like this, you don’t. You should fucking _know_ you’re the most important thing to me. I want to take care of you, I want to do things for you, I want to make sure you have the stuff you need, but you won’t let me!”

“Because I don’t fucking _care_ about the stuff, which _you_ should know by now. I’d rather be eating food cart hot dogs in a tiny fucking apartment with you _here_ , but no. Fucking money.”

“If you’d let me help, you wouldn’t have to work so hard, you and Kurt could just do school without having to worry about the fucking money!” Finn argues. 

“I actually _like_ my fucking job, thanks,” Puck says with a snort. “We don’t need you to give us money. Money’s not my first priority. It never has been.”

“Oh, but it’s mine?” Finn asks. “You think it’s mine?”

“Yeah, and you’ve made it abundantly clear where _your_ priorities are!” Puck yells.

And the night really just goes downhill from there. 

 

Noah doesn't argue with Finn when he says that the old truck died and it wasn't worth fixing. Noah can draw a few very bad conclusions, though, and when his break comes, he sits down at a table in the corner, head in his hands. Finn's not a good enough liar to fool Kurt, and normally Noah isn't either, but he doesn't want Kurt to worry. Bad enough that one of them has to. 

So Noah spends his break googling 'very expensive car repairs', in hopes that he can find something that will convince Kurt. The entry for cylinder repair talks about it being a result of neglect, but Finn's truck was old enough and had been bought secondhand, so Noah thinks they can probably sell it. Kurt could even rant about shady mechanics lying or something. He sends a quick text to Finn just as he goes back to work. 

_If K asks, it was cylinder failure. And the transmission looking like it was going to go._

And then Noah waits until after he's home, after Kurt's home, and after Hannah's home, the three of them going through more boxes, which has been their evening entertainment for the past week or two. 

"Finn called earlier."

"Apologized again?" Kurt asks, not even looking up, and doesn't that say too much about the pattern they've fallen into. Noah had thought the last month had fixed it, but maybe not. 

"Yeah. His truck finally gave out, though."

"It was older than me," Hannah says, laughing. "By a lot!"

"What was it?" Kurt asks immediately. 

"Cylinder failure, he said. And the transmission looked like it was going to go? So he just went ahead and bought a new one." Noah shrugs.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I doubt it was actually true cylinder failure. There needs to be some extreme neglect for that to be the first sign of a problem. Unless he's been taking it somewhere in Madison or Chicago that hasn't been doing it right. I suppose he couldn't wait until we were out there, though."

"Yeah, I guess not," Noah says. “He still has to get to practice and all that shit.” It doesn't do any good for Kurt to worry, and maybe Kurt doesn't buy it, but maybe he will. He'll take the chance of Kurt being pissed, because there's nothing they can do about it. They can't be in Chicago all the time. Maybe the truck is enough of a wake-up call. As long as their schedule for the upcoming year two is the same schedule the year above them had, they can work most mornings and be around in the evenings to FaceTime. The evenings that they can't, maybe Hannah can. They can even bring in Syd. 

"What kind of truck did he get?" Hannah asks. "Isn't it annoying to have a truck? I wouldn't want to have a truck here."

"Guess it's more convenient in Chicago," Noah answers her. "Toyota, he said."

"Cool."

"Well, at least I hope he'll let me look _it_ over," Kurt mutters, shaking his head. "Oh well. At least none of his teammates can complain about his truck being the oldest in the lot now."

 

“Darling, I think we figured out why that one picture had an ‘x’ in the file name,” Noah says as soon as Finn answers the phone, and he waves Kurt over to the futon. 

“Oh yeah?” Finn says. “I figured it meant it was somebody’s favorite one. Or like you said, that it was porny like some of the other ones.”

“Nope,” Noah says cheerfully. “I was just checking all the sites and guess what? It’s the one they leaked.” Kurt sits down beside him, both of them fighting laughter.

“So it’s online?” Finn asks. “There’s a picture of me wearing nothing but a football, and it’s online?”

“It looks like they’re using it as a sort of advertising campaign, frankly,” Kurt says. “To build up interest before the print issue is released next week or whenever. And there are definitely people interested.”

“Yeah, it’s listed like ‘oooh, they snuck this photo online’ but since it’s definitely the file that was marked with an ‘x’, we’re thinking it was deliberate.”

“Are people saying stuff?” Finn asks. “What are they saying? Is it good? Is it bad? Don’t tell me if it’s bad, just lie.”

Noah laughs. “So far it’s just ogling. It’s a pretty nice picture, after all. If you like that sort of thing.”

“Awesome. I’m totally being ogled online,” Finn says. 

“Tell him about the one comment,” Kurt says, nudging Noah.

“Oh, yeah.” Noah laughs again. “Someone suggested you might not like being ogled by men. Someone else replied that you might not like being ogled by women, and finally someone pointed out that it wasn’t like you were meeting all these people in person.”

“Well, I don’t go around in just a football in person, either, so even if I had to meet all of them in person, there wouldn’t be much to ogle,” Finn says.

“Maybe after you beat Tampa Bay later this week, you could show us what it would be like,” Noah says. “You know, except without the football, because that’s not really going to stay on.”

“No elastic,” Kurt agrees.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Finn says dismissively. 

“And somehow we haven’t gotten bored yet,” Kurt says. “Imagine that.”

“They should have let you keep that bearskin,” Noah says sadly, sighing a little. “ _That_ would have been different.”

“No way, asshole. I found bear hairs stuck _everywhere_.” Finn laughs. “I’m only getting back on a bearskin if you’re in between me and the bear.”

“Such a fucking hardship.” Noah snorts. “Plus we don’t require that you get shiny.”

“Good fucking thing, because that stuff is hard to wash off, and it itches,” Finn grumbles. “And it smells like something, but I couldn’t figure out what.”

“Varnish?” Kurt suggests. “Though that would make it hot, I suppose.”

“How would he have known?” Noah asks. “All those lights anyway.”

“No, they kept the air down really low so I wouldn’t sweat the shiny stuff off for the inside shots,” Finn explains. “It was cold.”

“You know, I think I should make sure and post that a few places,” Noah says slowly. “What do you think, K? Make sure everyone knows those shots were taken in a cold environment?”

“Oh, definitely.” Kurt manages to keep his face straight. “We’d hate for anyone to not know that detail.”

“Is that an important detail? I don’t think I looked cold or whatever.”

“Exactly, asshole.” Noah grins a little. “But if anyone asks you about it, at least you’ll know what they’re talking about. It hadn’t hit the really mainstream sites as of half an hour ago.”

“Do you think I should call Bobby and let him know?” Finn asks. 

“I suspect he’s already aware of it, darling,” Kurt says. “For all we know, the ‘x’ may be a standard way of communicating intent.”

“I all of a sudden feel like pirate treasure,” Finn says.

“I’m gonna stop myself before I say something ridiculous,” Noah decides. 

“Probably wise. Darling, we’ll see you on Thursday evening?”

“Yep. Just look for the guy wearing the football.”

 

Finn has Puck pressed against the tunnel wall in Mile High, one of Finn’s legs shoved between Puck’s as they kiss. He pulls away to murmur, “Gonna fuck you so hard after this game, baby,” in Puck’s ear before slamming his mouth against Puck’s again. Puck pushes back against Finn’s leg, his hands pulling at Finn’s hair and jersey. 

“Shit,” Kurt hisses. “I hear footsteps.”

Finn pulls away from Puck. “Fuck, that’s my cue, I guess. I thought we were deep enough in here that nobody would come by.”

“Different stadium, I guess,” Puck manages, straightening. 

Finn gives Puck a quick kiss, then pulls Kurt towards him for a kiss, too. “I’ll see you after the game, you guys. Shout something dirty at me while I’m playing!”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Finn, but he’s grinning. “Go. Be good!”

Finn starts to walk away from them backwards, calling out, “I’m always good!” before he turns to sprint towards the locker room. 

The game goes well, better than the first preseason game, and they’re partway into the third quarter when there’s a lull in the stadium noise and Finn hears Puck’s voice coming from the sidelines. 

“Not cold here so get those pants off!”

Finn starts to laugh, hard enough that he has to lean over and prop his hands on his thighs. Victor pats him on the back. 

“Your fans, Bluebird. I swear to god,” Victor says. 

“Just two of ’em,” Finn answers. “That’s plenty, though.”

 

The best decision Noah and Kurt made when they moved into the new apartment was the rule of no one in their bedroom except the two of them and Finn, not even Hannah. Noah reminds her to text if she needs them, because they’re going to be FaceTiming with Finn for a while, then shuts the door and joins Kurt on the bed. 

“He should be home now,” Noah says, and Kurt nods, adjusting the screen before calling Finn. 

Finn’s face appears on the screen. “Hey, you guys!”

“Hi,” they chorus. “How was dinner?” Kurt continues. 

“Good. We ate Japanese food. Still haven’t mastered the whole sushi thing,” Finn says, grinning. “The insides kept falling out when I’d pick a piece up with my chopsticks. The sake was good, though. Victor says hey, by the way.”

Noah manages not to wince at the mention of sake, instead smiling at the screen. “Just pick it up with your fingers, that’s what I do.”

“Nah, I’ve gotta look like I know what I’m doing,” Finn says, a little too effusively. “So, Hannah’s my babysitter now, huh?”

Kurt recovers first. “Is that what she told you? Of course, technically she could FaceTime you from a lot of places, but hopefully she won’t go anywhere too ridiculous if she knows you can see behind her.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I see how it is,” Finn says, laughing. “You gonna have Syd check in with me on Fridays?”

“Nah, Sundays,” Noah says with a grin. “And we always get Tuesdays.”

“I feel so loved. No, wait, wait, that’s not the word I’m looking for. _Paranoid_. That’s the word. Big brother is watching me.” Finn laughs again.

Kurt raises his eyebrows and smirks. “If it makes you feel better, that’s exactly how you can phrase it. We just want you to be double plus good.”

“That book creeped me out so hard,” Finn says. 

“Pretty sure that was the point,” Noah responds. “But enough about literature.”

“Exactly,” Finn says. “Take off your clothes. I want to watch you guys do something pretty.”

 

Kurt slides his sunglasses on and wraps one hand around Noah’s and the other around his carry-on as they start to walk out of the airport. “I love San Francisco already,” Kurt says to Noah. “Harvey Milk San Francisco International Airport. I like the image of people around the country having to say they’re flying into Harvey Milk.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah. And how many places advertise that oh, yes, they’ll let straight travelers stay at their hotel, too?”

“Precisely.” They find the train that takes them to within half a mile of the Guest House, which Kurt admits is closer to a bed and breakfast than a hotel, but they’re just a block or two from Castro Street, and if they weren’t going to stay down near the stadium in Santa Clara, Kurt wanted to be in the Castro. 

“What time are our reservations for dinner?” Noah asks once they’re in the room, sprawled out on the king-size bed. “The time change is freaking me out a little. It’s like we were only flying for three and a half hours.”

“Yes, well. At least it gives us more time? Reservations aren’t until 7:45, but we’re meeting Finn at 7, assuming the Bears don’t foul anything up.” Kurt rolls his eyes and goes to the window, looking out. “Armory will be thrilled,” he adds, smirking at Noah, who smirks as well. “Out to dinner in the gayest neighborhood in the United States with his gay brothers before walking back with them to a gay hotel.”

“And he can’t really say anything, because Finn paid their price.”

“Exactly.” Kurt shrugs. Why not push it as far as they can? Toeing any sort of line isn’t going to change anything. 

“He’s free most of tomorrow, right?” 

“Yes.” Kurt shakes his head. “They like to control everything, though, don’t they? Plane tickets, itinerary.”

“Come here.” Noah gestures for Kurt to walk towards the bed, and Kurt lies down next to Noah, resting his head on Noah’s chest. “One day you’ll get to do all of it again. Maybe we can drag Finn shopping tomorrow afternoon.”

“Hmm. I’m sure he needs a suit from San Francisco.” Kurt closes his eyes and smiles. “We could get complementary ones, all of us.”

“Yeah, ’cause I wear a suit so much.”

“If we buy you one, I’ll find a reason for you to wear it, baby.”

 

Finn stands up so Kurt and Puck can get a look at his whole body through the screen. He does a slow turn before sitting down again. “Well, so how does it look? And do you think it works ok with this shirt?”

“It looks good, darling,” Kurt answers. “It fits fine?”

“Yeah. Might get a little tight later in the season, though,” Finn says. “Maybe you should have picked out a suit with a little more room in the arms and legs for me.”

Puck grins. “It’ll fit again by March. Where’s the fun in putting you in baggy clothes?”

“The grey New York suit should fit during the second half of the season, at least,” Finn says, shrugging. “Want me to take it off now?”

“Slowly,” Kurt says. 

Finn laughs and stands up again, slowly letting the jacket slide off his shoulders to the floor. He can see Kurt grimace when it hits the ground. “Floor’s clean,” Finn promises. “The cleaning person came this morning.”

“It’s no excuse,” Kurt insists, and Puck just laughs.

“You want a show or you want me to hang it up on the hanger as I go?” Finn teases. “It’s one or the other, bossofme. Can’t have both.” He loosens his tie and pulls it over his head, dropping that to the floor, too. 

“I can want both,” Kurt protests. “It may not be possible, but I can still _want_ both.”

Finn starts unfastening the buttons on his shirt. “Floor or hanger? It’s all up to you.”

“Fine,” Kurt sighs. “Floor.”

“Thought so!” Finn says with another laugh. He finishes unbuttoning the shirt and works it off slowly, giving it a little twirl over his head before sending it flying to the floor, then he unfastens his pants. “Oh, I won’t be home for Hannah to babysit me on Monday,” he says, as he pushes his pants down his hips. He’s not wearing anything under them. 

Puck grins and makes a gesture for Finn to hurry and finish, and Kurt shakes his head. “I wish you’d stop calling it that.”

Finn steps out of his pants and stands there naked, hands on hips in a pose reminiscent of the one from _Out_. “Call it like I see it,” he says. “Anyway, Victor’ll have to babysit me instead. We’re going out.”

“Mmm, well. Call us when you get home?” Kurt says. He says it like it’s a question, but it’s not, not really.

“Sure. Might be late. We’re meeting Cotton and Wright at a place in Lincoln Park.” Finn appreciates that they worry about him, but for all that he jokes about Hannah babysitting him, it really does feel that way, that he has to check in regularly to assure them things are fine in Chicago. What it really means for Finn is that he has to work that much harder to pretend things are fine in Chicago.

“We don’t sleep,” Puck jokes. Or pretends to joke, anyway, because Finn can see the strain around Puck’s eyes; that’s always been his tell when he’s bending the truth. 

“On any given day, if you checked at 3:30 am, we’d be asleep,” Kurt says with a laugh. 

“Unless I needed to piss.”

“Promise I’ll check in before 3:30 am, then,” Finn says. “I could just activate the GPS on my phone and you could track me, you know.”

“If Hannah needs a geography project, we’ll let her know,” Puck says wryly. 

“Yeah, good to know,” Finn says. “Anything else I can get you? Character references? I’ve heard they make those cameras that clip onto your tie really small now, barely noticeable.” 

“Sworn affidavits will do,” Kurt says with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, Finn.”

“Hey, whatever it takes to show you I can be trusted to walk and chew gum at the same time without strangling,” Finn says lightly. 

“Oh, no, that one’s easy.” Puck smirks. “We’ll just tell Bobby to get you an endorsement with Wrigley’s, and then we’ll have video evidence.”

“Sounds good,” Finn says. “Now, are the two of you just gonna sit there and stare at me, or are you getting naked, too. You know it makes me feel objectified when it’s just me.”

“Darling,” Kurt says as Puck starts to take off his blazer. “We can objectify you even when we’re naked.”

 

Noah is convinced that this is a special hell, spending the last night of Hanukkah with all three Berrys, Burt, Carole, Audrey, Finn, Hannah, and Kurt. Hiram, Leroy, and Carole are clustered together, gushing about the wedding, and even Rachel looks like she wishes she could silence them. 

It puts a damper on the entire Hanukkah–Christmas–New Year’s sequence of events, since Noah knows on Christmas, Carole’ll manage to carry on without the Berrys’ help. The three of them did have their Tuesday before Thanksgiving, just like they always do, and at least they didn’t have to see the Berrys at all on Thanksgiving itself. They watched the parade and went to Sarabeth’s, which Noah realizes he finds to be ‘normal’ more than the idea of someone cooking, now. 

“Have the kids told you where they’re planning on honeymooning?” Leroy asks Carole. “I can’t get an answer out of Rachel!”

“No, Finn hasn’t said a word. But that’s probably better, right? So that no one finds out and bothers them while they’re there!”

“We’re going to Antarctica, because penguins,” Finn says, winking at Audrey. “I’m bringing ten penguins home for Aud.”

“Twelve!” Audrey demands. “And a pool! I need a pool for my penguins.”

“Sure you do, Veruca,” Noah says with a laugh. “Tell your brother to stop spoiling you, though.” He winks at Finn. “I’m pretty sure that six is enough penguins for anyone.”

“Eight!” Audrey counters. She puts her hands on her hips, which just emphasises the ridiculously poofy skirt of her dress. 

“No way, you’ll get ten and you’ll like it,” Finn says. “This isn’t a negotiation. Bobby isn’t here, and he takes care of all my contract negotiations.”

“Boys.” Carole sighs, then turns to Audrey. “Audrey, you aren’t going to get any penguins. They’re live animals. Stop asking your brother for things.”

And isn’t _that_ ironic or whatever, Noah can’t help but think. The same woman who was dropping hints the day before about wanting a new car or SUV, telling her child to stop asking for things. 

“They gave me Bear,” Audrey counters. “She’s a live animal.”

“She’s a cat. That’s a domesticated animal, and penguins are wild.” Carole nudges Burt. “Burt, please.”

“You have to have a license to own penguins, honey,” Burt says to Audrey.

“My Finn will give me a license with my penguins.”

“Audrey,” Kurt says with a laugh. “Finn isn’t in the Department of Natural Resources. Come on, let’s go find our seats before they start bringing out latkes.”

“I don’t like latkes. I want bacon,” Audrey says, but she gives Noah a sly look like she knows exactly what she’s saying.

“I like latkes _with_ bacon,” Hannah mutters quietly, looking over at Rachel. 

“I’m sitting with Hannah,” Audrey announces. 

“Sure, Aunt Audrey,” Hannah says with a grin over her shoulder at Noah and Kurt. Noah rolls his eyes. 

“I wasn’t that obnoxious,” he insists. “When I was her age.”

Kurt laughs. “Oh, baby. Yes, you were.”

“Yeah, you totally were, dude,” Finn says. “But hey, loved you anyway, so that’s ok.”

“Great, you’re ganging up on me now,” Noah says, sighing dramatically. “I know when I can’t win. The three of you? I can’t win.”

 

Back in Chicago again. The back and forth of it is starting to be as wearing as anything else. New York for Thanksgiving, back to Chicago for a game that Sunday against The Doug and the Seahawks, two away games, another flight to New York for the Heisman presentation ceremony at the beginning of December, back to Chicago for a game, back to New York for Hanukkah, back to Chicago for a Christmas Eve home game, a flight that night back to New York for Christmas, and then flying out to Baltimore for the New Year’s Eve game. The travel is just part of it, and he should be getting used to it, but instead he just feels restless, tired, and slightly homeless.

After the playoff game—and loss—the season is finally over, but the rest of January is filled with more back and forth for off-season photoshoots for endorsements: Diesel, Spicebomb, and, much to Puck and Kurt’s amusement, Lush. At the end of it all, Finn smells great, he’s stocked with enough Lush products to make Kurt weak in the knees, and the variety of his underwear has been greatly expanded.

The Chicago routine when Kurt and Puck aren’t there is simple. Finn gets up in the morning, no matter how bad his hangover, and he runs. He works out. He comes back to the apartment and mixes a heaping double-scoop of protein powder with coffee and a shot of whatever bottle’s still on the counter from the night before, and then he goes to whichever meetings, events, volunteer commitments, or other activities on his calendar. He hits the clubs and bars at night, sometimes with Victor—who seems sure the Bears won’t be re-upping his contract for next season—and sometimes alone. Now that the season is over, he’s smoking more than he’d like to acknowledge and drinking like booze flowed out of the faucets.

Finn isn’t stupid, no matter what some people might think. He knows he can’t keep this up for another year and a half. He’ll run himself into the ground before then, with this kind of lifestyle. He knows he needs to cut back on the drinking, that he never should have started smoking to begin with, that he needs to curtail the late nights, but without Puck and Kurt there, it’s hard to give too much of a shit about whether he’s running himself down or not.

At least he isn’t spending money hand over fist. That’s one reason why he went with Bobby’s management firm over the other offers; Bobby’s firm prides itself on helping athletes manage their money and living reasonably so they have long-term financial security. Finn’s still not completely sure what a portfolio is, but he knows he has one, and it’s diverse, and that when he retires at the end of his four year contract—and he is retiring, no matter what Puck thinks—he’ll be comfortable for the rest of his life. More importantly, he’ll have enough to take care of Kurt and Puck, for all three of them to have a good life in New York without having to worry about money.

That’s the goal, and has been all along. The travel, the pressure from the Bears’ management, the increasingly complicated fake relationship with Rachel, the ongoing fights with Puck, the disappointed look in Kurt’s eyes every time Finn has to fly back to Chicago, all the shit… in the end it’ll be worth it. Enough money, and they can live how they want without worrying what people think and say. Money won’t ever have to be tight for them like he knows it has been lately. They can get a big place with plenty of room for the three of them, for Hannah, for an increasingly fat Ennis, and maybe even some kids. The goalpost feels so far out, but he can do it. It’s just two more seasons. 

 

It’s the end of January before Finn’s in New York for longer than a couple of days. Kurt and Noah are back in classes, of course, but at least Finn is there for longer than hello and good-bye. 

January also means Finn’s officially finished half of his contract. Two seasons down, two seasons remaining, and Kurt hates the thought of two more years, but it’s better than it was. He and Noah still worry about Finn in Chicago by himself; they still worry about the rumors that never quite die down, because they’re never completely out of the public eye when they’re together; they still worry about the potential for a player or group of players to target Finn on the field. Still, halfway is halfway, and in two more years, they’ll have finished graduate school and hopefully be using their skills, Finn can finally start his own grad school program, and they won’t feel that Hannah needs quite as much supervision. 

“Rachel brought up something interesting,” Kurt says one evening. “She pointed out if the two of you can take this scheme all the way up until the twelfth, and then break up dramatically on the supposed day of the wedding, it might help both of you. More publicity for her, and a longer time period that you not dating would be excused.”

“I hate to say it, but Rachel’s right,” Noah agrees. “If you have a broken engagement on the day of your wedding and release a short statement about being heartbroken or something, you can probably get through the last two seasons without as many questions being asked.”

Finn frowns, but slowly nods his head. “I guess that makes sense. You both think that’s the right way to go?”

“There’s always the chance it could backfire,” Noah says, shrugging. “But as long as you both release statements that don’t put blame on only one of you, that should minimize it.”

“You’ll need to pay Hiram and Leroy back after the fact, I think,” Kurt says, wincing a little. “They’ve been so determined to do it traditionally with them paying for everything.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Finn says. “I can take care of that.”

Noah laughs suddenly. “If anyone starts passing rumors in 2019, we’ll send you to a movie with Hannah. I always said I was going to put you two together in an aromantic marriage, remember?”

“Yeah, I can just see the headlines now,” Finn says, rolling his eyes. “‘Bluebird to Take Child Bride’ or whatever.”

“She’d be sixteen by then,” Noah says, still laughing. “Teen Bride, not Child Bride.”

“Yeah, that’s so much better, dude.”

“Hey, you’re not beating her or anything, so you’re ahead of part of the league.” Noah shrugs. “Or we could use stage makeup and make her look at least twenty.”

“Do I still have to pay you… what was it I said I’d pay you for her?” Finn asks.

“Wasn’t it cows?” Noah says, frowning. “K, do you remember?”

“If it was, can we re-negotiate the contract? I don’t think we have a place to keep even one cow, much less more than one.”

“Should I give Bobby a call?” Finn asks. “I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

“I think Bobby’s probably tired of us,” Kurt says with a sigh. “I think he still doesn’t understand why we turned down that multi-million dollar Axe endorsement offer. _Axe_.”

“But I smell way better now than I would have if I’d done that one,” Finn points out. “If Bobby smelled me, he’d have to agree.”

“I think we should tell Bobby that’s a new requirement for management. Smelling the people he represents,” Noah says. “I think he’d really be tired of us then. But yeah, you and Rachel can even go ahead and have the statements ready in another few weeks, give ’em to Bobby, and then we’ll kidnap you instead of listening to your mom cry.”

“Oh, god.” Kurt widens his eyes as the thought hits him. “Darling, you’ll have to hide for weeks.”

“Guess you’ll have to hide me here until the season starts,” Finn says, with a shrug. 

“Hmm.” Kurt purses his lips and shakes his head. “Such a hardship.”

“I wish I could stay longer this time. Rest of February would be nice. Company’s better and it’s ass-cold in Chicago right now,” Finn says. 

“Next year, convince Bobby to move everything either to New York or off your calendar once the season’s over,” Kurt suggests, leaning on Finn’s shoulder. “Don’t some of your teammates live in other cities?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why there’s so much back and forth for everything, unless it’s just management fucking with me, which, whatever. Wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Finn asks, then sighs. 

“No,” Kurt acknowledges sadly. “It wouldn’t be.”

 

Noah sits on the couch and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose or toss the phone across the room as Finn continues talking.

“That’s not what I said, Puck,” Finn says. “I didn’t say you and Kurt don’t deserve to take a trip. I just said I hate it when I can’t talk to you on the phone for that long. That’s not the same thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Noah says skeptically. “So it’s fine for anyone else’s actual work to require anything, but ours needs to accommodate you? I’ll get right on that.” Maybe it’s not fair, but that’s how it feels. The one week they’re away from New York for something other than one of Finn’s games, and Finn’s complaining. 

“That isn’t what I said!” Finn insists. “Why do you do that? Why do you have to take everything I say the worst possible way? I’m not complaining about your work.”

“No, just the fact that it’s inconvenient for you. Everything’s fucking worked around _your_ schedule. Your games, your workouts, your endorsements, your public appearances. Sorry that Tisch didn’t consult Bobby.” Every year, during the second year of the program, everyone goes to Connecticut for seven days of writing and workshopping at Goodspeed, which is apparently the equivalent of a research and development lab for musical theatre. And yeah, they ask that they not really use their phones and internet except in case of an emergency. It sucks, but Noah and Kurt aren’t the only ones leaving behind a significant other. 

Finn sighs loudly, and Noah can hear the sound of ice shifting in a glass, followed by the sound of Finn drinking before Finn continues talking. “If you don’t like my schedule, then don’t move shit around. You don’t want to come to my games, don’t come. I’m not trying to make you work around anything, I just like being able to talk to you on the goddamn phone, Puck!”

“You know what _I_ like?” Noah asks. “I like when we don’t _have_ to rely on the goddamn phone. But that requires you being in the same fucking city, doesn’t it? So we’re just out of luck.”

“It’s a couple of weeks. I’ll be back out there by March first. I’m sorry I’ve got shit I’ve got to show up for for _my_ fucking job,” Finn counters. “You think I like being here? You don’t think I’d rather be in New York with you?”

“Yeah, right.” Noah shakes his head, even though Finn can’t see him. “You just woke up one day and magically, you were in Chicago! No decision-making on your part at all. You fucking chose your job, Finn. I guess we’re just lucky you’re near a major airport – if lucky’s the right word.” Because that’s what it boils down to, in Noah’s head. Finn picked football and the NFL and the endorsements and the money over the three of them being together. Sure, they wouldn’t have had much money, but they would have been _together_.

“Nobody fucking complained when I signed the contract,” Finn says, his voice raising. The clink of ice and the sound of Finn taking a drink comes through the phone again. “Easy to complain about it now, but you didn’t have shit to say then.”

“Wasn’t my fucking decision to make. Did you want me to give an interview to ESPN about how I thought it was a fucking waste? Pretty sure that wouldn’t have gone over well. I don’t give a _shit_ about the contract. My name’s not Carole.” Carole, who after almost two years, still hasn’t stopped dropping hints about how nice and safe some luxury car is, or how she’d love a bracelet like so-and-so. For every ounce of loathing Noah and Kurt have towards the NFL, Carole matches it twofold in her exuberant love of Finn’s career.

Noah hears a loud noise, probably the sound of an empty glass being slammed on a table. “You think this is the best time of my life? Fuck you, Puck. I did this for _us_!”

“For us? On what fucking planet?” Noah asks incredulously. “You thought four more fucking years of living in different cities was a _good_ plan?”

“Yeah, Puck, that was exactly my fucking motivation. I love being hundreds of miles away, that’s just the fucking _high point_ of my entire fucking life!”

“Then why the hell did you do it?” Noah yells back. “You didn’t do it for me, or for K, or for all three of us. You did it for all the people at Wisconsin, and Burt, and Carole, and the fucking money. Don’t fucking _lie_ to me! Don’t make it something fucking noble because it’s _not_.”

“Fuck you!” Finn screams into the phone. “It’s for you, it’s _always_ for you, it’s always _about_ you, and fuck you if you don’t see that. Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_!”

“You don’t make any fucking sense!” Noah looks down and realizes his knuckles are white around the arm of the sofa. At least he hasn’t heard Finn throw anything. “We didn’t want you to be famous or rich or whatever else the fuck you’re chasing. We just wanted you _here_ , you idiot. And wow, we didn’t get that, did we?”

“Nobody’s getting what they want! I didn’t want this! I just wanted to take care of you, but no, you won’t even fucking let me do that! Fuck you, Puck. Fuck you, and fuck your complaining, and fuck your stupid retreat!”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one that chose it,” Noah says, more calm than he feels. “You wanted to take care of us? Adding more stress isn’t exactly helpful. This— we can’t keep doing this.” They’re worn out. Pulled too tight across everything they have to do. It helps that it’s not the season, that they aren’t the ones travelling now, but there’s so much weighing on them. Noah had joked about not sleeping, back in the fall; it’s closer to being true than either he or Kurt wants to admit. School, work, Hannah, biweekly appointments with Michelle still, worrying about Finn, waiting for the end of his faux-engagement, and fighting all the time. 

“I _hate_ this,” Finn says, the threat of a sob in his voice. “I hate it here. You don’t know. You don’t even fucking know how bad it is here.”

Noah sighs. There’s nothing they can do about it, any of it. Finn keeps drinking, they keep trying to hold onto him, their life splits more and more into two distinct parts, where one doesn’t have a clue about the other. There’s no answer to what Finn says, because there’s no answer, period. “Yeah. Yeah. You’ve mentioned. It’s awful. What do you want me to fucking do about it, Finn?”

“I don’t want you to do anything, Puck. I don’t want you to do anything.” Finn doesn’t stop talking so much as he starts sobbing the words and eventually it’s just sobs without any distinct words. Great; _that_ drunk.

“Then I guess we won’t do anything,” Noah says flatly. “You can have your big special NFL life, and we’ll have our life here, and then you won’t have to worry about me pissing you off. How about that?” Noah’s done, just done; he can’t keep doing this. 

Finn manages a sobbed, “Fuck you,” but that’s his only real response.

“Yeah, well, none of that, either,” Noah says quietly, not sure if Finn can even hear him. If Finn can hear him, Noah isn’t sure how much he’s comprehending, because he doesn’t know how much whiskey Finn’s managed to drink. He listens to Finn’s sobbing for a little bit longer before he ends the call and sets the phone down. 

Noah slumps over, hands over his face, and can’t help but let out a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny. 

“Baby?” Kurt says softly. 

“Should’ve snuck in to one of those seminars for the girlfriends,” Noah says. “I— we can’t keep doing this, blue eyes. I told him we couldn’t keep doing it, because this. Not now.”

Kurt sits down next to him, their hands finding each other almost automatically, and Noah squeezes Kurt’s hand as Kurt speaks. “No,” Kurt admits. “Not for a little while.”

“We can’t put everything else on the back burner,” Noah whispers. “I hate it, K, I do, but. Everyone has a breaking point. I don’t want to actually break.”

 

Finn doesn’t remember the whole fight, but he remembers enough of it, and he remembers how it ended, and it ended with what sounded like Puck breaking up with him. After the fight, Finn doesn’t have a safe place to turn to. Kurt works so hard to present himself as a neutral party, but Finn can still feel the resentment, and Kurt lives with Puck, so it makes sense that whatever story Kurt gives about not taking sides, at the end of the day, once the phone call ends, Finn couldn’t blame Kurt for taking Puck’s side. If Puck ended things with Finn, that means that, functionally, _both_ of them have ended things with Finn.

Finn doesn’t have anybody in Chicago he can talk to, and he can’t even call Syd to talk to her, because he’s done everything he can to keep the reality of how bad everything in Chicago is from her. Finn’s alone. He’s alone and he’s drowning, and the two people he used to be able to count on seeing it either can’t see it or don’t believe what they’re seeing.

The second week of March, Rachel’s in Chicago for the weekend, staying at that nice hotel where the Bears always put her. Finn and Puck haven’t been on speaking terms for the last two weeks. Kurt, for once, refused to play intermediary, so by the weekend that Rachel’s in Chicago and Puck and Kurt have left for their week-long musical-writing residency in Connecticut, Finn hasn’t spoken to Puck at all in over two weeks and has barely spoken to Kurt. It feels over, and all that’s left is Chicago, the fiction of his relationship with Rachel, and a raw, gaping hole inside him that he tries to fill by pouring as much booze into it as possible.

Later, Finn won’t mince words with himself when he thinks about it. There’s no other way to describe what happens. Kurt and Puck are in Connecticut; Kurt and Puck have ended it with Finn. Rachel is in Chicago, and while she’s in Chicago, Finn fucks her.

He fucks her. They go out for drinks, and once he starts drinking, he doesn’t stop, and she doesn’t ask him to. He's drunk, and he's mad, and _they're_ the ones who decided she should be his beard in the first place, so when she brings him another cocktail and slides into his lap, arm around his neck, he lets her. In the cab later, when she kisses him, he lets her do that, too, and then when she continues, he kisses her back.

At the apartment, she unzips her dress, letting it slide to the floor, and he doesn't stop her. He pours himself another drink and watches her, pretending he wants what he sees. He doesn't, but he's supposed to; that's the whole point of this, right? She's what he's supposed to want. She’s what the team says he should want, what his mother has always said he should want, what those people on those cesspool websites Puck reads say he should want.

She tells him to lie down and he does, and she’s the one who unfastens his pants, though he’s the one that lets her. It takes him what should be an embarrassingly long time to get hard, but she just chirps something about “a little too much to drink” and keeps on with it. When they fuck, he mostly just lies there, and he blames the booze for why it feels so weird, blames the fact that he's cheating on them—breakup or no, it feels like cheating—for why it seems so wrong and why he feels so dirty, blames _them_ for him being here with her at all.

He holds her loosely by the hips while she rides him, because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands. If he used to know, he doesn’t anymore. He can’t tell if she’s enjoying it, and he’s pretty sure _he_ isn’t. He closes his eyes and thinks about Kurt's narrow hips in his hands, how tight Puck always feels around him, being pressed between them where he belongs, just so he can come and have it be over with. Even with those pictures in his mind, it still takes a long, long time to get there.

She seems happy enough as she rolls off of him and curls against him on the bed. He wants to get up and light a cigarette, but even he can accept that he’s probably too drunk to do that safely, without lighting himself on fire or burning down the whole apartment. He doesn't know if she came or not, and he'd like to pretend to care, but really all he cares about is how bad his hangover is going to be in the morning. His guess is it’ll be pretty bad, and he hopes he’s drunk enough not to remember what he just did, and that if he isn’t drunk enough to forget _all_ of it, that the hangover will wipe out the rest of the memory.

 

Kurt glares at the screen and changes a few words. “Why did we decide to revise this one, again?” he asks Noah.

“Because we’re actually masochists,” Noah answers without looking up.

“Right, how could I forget.” Kurt sighs and goes back to glaring at the screen, not looking up when he hears a key in the lock. The door opens and closes with no immediate sound of footsteps, and a few seconds pass before they hear Finn’s voice.

“So… so, maybe you don’t want me here,” Finn begins. Kurt looks up, startled, and he glances at Noah long enough to know Noah is equally startled. Finn is standing there, clearly concentrating on getting the words out, his hands clenched at his sides and his entire body tense. “And if you don’t, I’ll go. I’ll give you my key, and I’ll go, and I won’t come back until you tell me to, if that’s what you want. I just— I _miss_ you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much I can’t stand it.”

Kurt exhales and closes his laptop before looking back at Finn. “Finn,” Kurt says quietly. “Come sit down.”

Finn hesitates, then he slowly removes his coat and his shoes before walking towards the sofa. He stands by the sofa awkwardly, like he’s not sure where he should sit. Kurt raises one eyebrow and gestures to the free spot on the sofa, and Finn immediately sits.

Kurt watches Noah staring at Finn, his guitar still in his lap, and Kurt can tell Noah’s just waiting. Waiting to see what Finn says, and waiting to see what Kurt does, and Kurt doesn’t really know what he should do.

“Hi,” Kurt says finally. “We’re not going to take your key.”

“Ok,” Finn answers softly.

“How long are you here?” Noah asks, looking vaguely surprised at himself.

“I’m either getting right back on a plane to Chicago or I’m here for a few weeks,” Finn says. “I guess it depends on if you want me here.”

“Problem’s never been not wanting you here,” Noah answers, and he slowly puts down his guitar, eyes still on Finn.

“So I can stay?”

“You can stay,” Noah says with a nod. “Can’t promise how much we’ll be around some days.”

“Rehearsals,” Kurt explains to Finn.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Finn says.

“I’m sure Hannah will find a use for you,” Kurt says wryly as Noah slowly stands up, walking over to the sofa and then sitting down on the other side of Finn, all without saying a word. Finn hesitantly brings his arms up and puts one around Kurt, then the other around Noah. He tightens the arm around Kurt briefly, then buries his face in Kurt’s hair and breathes deeply once before turning towards Noah.

“I missed you too, asshole,” Noah admits, putting his head on Finn’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“We know,” Kurt says, because they do. None of them ever intend to cause any hurt; they hurt each other anyway.

“Yeah,” Noah echoes, and Kurt suppresses a smile, watching Noah slowly end up at least half in Finn’s lap. Finn’s arm slides down to Noah’s waist and pulls him close, kissing him almost roughly.

Kurt moves his own arms, one hand resting on Noah’s back and the other squeezed between Finn and the sofa. He sighs slightly, leaning his weight against Finn’s side, and watches them continue to kiss, Noah’s body pressing against Finn. Finn’s hand slips under Kurt’s shirt, and Kurt can see his other hand do the same to Noah’s shirt, working its way underneath to spread across his lower back.

“Finn, darling,” Kurt whispers.

“Mmhmm?” Finn answers, still kissing Noah, but opening his eyes and looking at Kurt with his eyebrows slightly raised.

Noah pulls back and leans his forehead against Finn. “This would be better if we were all naked,” he says matter-of-factly. He pauses, then continues. “Also probably if we weren’t in danger of Hannah walking in.”

Kurt giggles. “I don’t know which of the two of you would be more horrified.”

“Poor Hannah. All traumatized,” Finn says. “But yeah, bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Noah agrees, and Kurt nods.

 

Finn doesn’t even tell Rachel he’s in New York for the first full week he’s there, but once classes start up again for Kurt and Puck, he figures he might as well put in an appearance. Plus, he knows he owes her an apology for what happened in Chicago, and that seems like the kind of thing that’s best done in person, even if it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable for both of them.

Since Wednesdays are Puck and Kurt’s long day, that’s the day Finn meets Rachel for lunch at that little cafe she likes. She’s waiting for him outside the cafe when he gets there, and he leans down to greet her with a kiss on the cheek before the two of them walk inside to get a table. He can tell by the look on Rachel’s face that she’s definitely feeling weird about what happened, which just makes him feel that much more guilty, but neither of them says much until they’re seated.

“So,” Finn beings, once the waiter walks away with their drink order. “I, uh. About what happened in Chicago…”

“Yes. We need to talk about that,” Rachel says quickly, and she reaches for her purse. “We really need to talk about that, Finn.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, nodding slowly. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have had that much to drink while we were out together, and things were just—”

“Finn,” Rachel stops him, holding up one hand and then unzipping her purse and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Finn,” she continues, her voice low, “I’m pregnant.” She slides the piece of paper across the table, then looks at him expectantly.

Finn looks down at the paper, which is a grainy black and white image that he immediately recognizes as a printout of an ultrasound, just like the ones his mom used to stick on the fridge when she was pregnant with Audrey, much less clear than the sonogram video from Quinn’s pregnancy with Beth. His first thought is that Rachel _has_ been seeing someone in New York, that this is her way of letting him know so he can break off the pretend relationship sooner rather than later, but then he looks at Rachel again and realizes what’s really happening.

“Rachel,” Finn says quietly, picking up the ultrasound picture and looking at it closely. It’s just blurs of white and black and grey, but somewhere in there he knows there’s something important. “You’re pregnant? And… you’re _pregnant_?”

Rachel nods, biting her lower lip. “I haven’t— I haven’t been seeing anyone else. There’s too much publicity, people would realize and think I was cheating on you. You know that.” She sighs and looks pleadingly at Finn. “I don’t know what to do, Finn. Of course it’s wonderful—a baby—but I’m so scared, too.”

A baby. _Finn’s_ baby. Finn keeps looking between the picture in his hand and Rachel’s face; of course she’s scared, she must be, because in that moment he’s absolutely fucking terrified. Still, he’s not the one who’s pregnant, so he reaches across the table and rests his hand on top of hers.

“Hey, it’s gonna be ok, Rach,” he says, more bracingly than he would have thought it would come out. “I’ll take care of you, ok? I’ll make sure you’ve got all the stuff you need. Is there stuff you need right now? We can go get whatever stuff you need.”

“I just don’t know how I’m going to do this, Finn,” Rachel says, picking up her napkin and dabbing at her eyes. “Raising a baby, all alone in New York, and trying to still get good roles in productions. It seems like too much, Finn, and I— I don’t even have any morning sickness yet!”

He feels like a heel even asking, but he has to ask. “You’re sure you want to keep it? Whatever you want to do, I won’t be mad at you, ok? I swear.”

“Oh, I know,” Rachel assures him. “I know you wouldn’t be. And I’m _not_ sure, but I’m not sure I _don’t_ want to keep it, either.” She frowns and wrings her hands a little. “I like the idea of a baby, but I’m frightened.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can totally understand that,” Finn says. “So, what do you need me to do? Do you need money for anything? If you want to keep it, you know I’ll take care of it, and you. Just tell me what you need me to do.” It’s not her fault this happened. Neither one of them was thinking clearly in Chicago, but if Rachel’s keeping the baby, that’s not the baby’s fault, either. The whole thing is complicated and a bad situation, but it’s still a _baby_ , Finn’s baby, and he isn’t going to turn his back on it.

“What are they going to think of us, Finn?” Rachel asks. “Not getting married, I mean. I can’t hide a pregnancy forever! Someone will see me and they’ll put it together and then there will be stories everywhere about us. I’ll have cheated on you or you’ll be a… a cad! Who doesn’t take care of his responsibilities, or, I don’t know.” She sounds like she’s getting almost hysterical as she continues. “Directors will think I’m some kind of a scarlet woman!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Finn says, reaching for her hand again. “I’ll make sure everybody knows you didn’t do anything wrong. Lots of people have babies that weren’t planning on it, Rach. I’ll take care of my responsibilities and I won’t let anybody say anything bad about you, I promise.”

“Then what will they say about you?” Rachel points out. “Oh, this isn’t helping to keep the media off your back at all!”

“Well, they’ll say whatever they say,” Finn reasons. “I’m not going to let that stuff pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to worry about money or anything like that, and I’ll worry about the media stuff. I can talk to a few people, explain about it, and they’ll see that you’re not a scarlet woman or whatever.”

“Maybe… maybe we should get married,” Rachel says slowly, like the thought has just occurred to her. “People have babies seven months or so after they get married, and no one cares then, you know.”

Finn’s stomach starts to churn and clench, and he forces his hand not to tighten around Rachel’s, because if he starts to squeeze, he might not stop. “Rach, it’s just pretend. We can’t really get married. We aren’t in love with each other, for starters.”

“But we’re having a _baby_ , Finn,” Rachel says. “We have everything arranged to get married. We’re having a baby _together_. Wouldn’t you rather see your baby every day, Finn?”

“Of course I want to see it every day, Rach. But I can live in the same city as you and the baby without being married to you.”

“But you can’t right now,” Rachel says, her eyes wide and damp. “She—or he, I suppose—she should know her parents are together, Finn.” She smiles, her lower lip trembling a little. “You know I’m a little bit psychic, Finn, and I think it’s a little girl.”

A little girl that will be his, like Beth was his for a few too-brief weeks before the truth came out. As much as he likes to pretend he’s over that, that those weeks of thinking he was going to be a father don’t really matter anymore, because he sees Puck and Beth together and he’s happy for them, the truth is, finding out Beth wasn’t his was one of the worst days of his life. Not just because it meant Quinn cheated or Puck slept with Quinn, but because he thought he had something special and then it was taken away. He hasn’t let himself really admit how much he still wants that, not with the football and the hidden relationship, but here it is, a chance to have that one thing he wants so badly. It shouldn’t change everything, but it _does_.

“Ok,” Finn finally says. “Ok, we’ll do this. We’ll go through with the wedding and give it a chance. I want to be there for her. I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want her to have any time where she’s growing up without me there.”

“Okay,” Rachel says quietly, then looks up again, seemingly alarmed. “Don’t— don’t tell anyone yet, Finn. What if something goes wrong, or I miscarried, and it was splashed all over the internet?”

Finn nods. That would be horrible for both of them, but especially for her. “We’ll tell everyone after the wedding?”

“We’ll figure out a cute way to announce it,” Rachel suggests. “Once we’re sure everything’s fine. Maybe we can find out for sure that she is a girl before we tell everyone!”

“Is it… can I tell Kurt, at least?” Finn asks. “He won’t tell anyone.”

“He’d give it away without meaning to, Finn, you know that.”

“He’s not a gossip, Rach. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that,” Finn argues. “I just feel like he should know.” Because somehow, some way, Finn has to explain that he is marrying Rachel, and there’s no other way to explain it than the truth. It’s not what Finn wants, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Sacrificing things you want so life can be better for your kids?

“And he’ll be so mad at me,” Rachel continues, not meeting Finn’s eyes. “He’ll blame me for going back on the deal, and he’ll be angry. The stress isn’t good for the baby, Finn. You know how Kurt is, of course I adore him, but he can be so cruel.”

She’s right. Kurt will be angry, and the truth is that he probably _will_ blame Rachel, when it was Finn who got so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing and put them all in this situation. “But we can tell him right after the wedding?” Finn asks.

“We’ll tell him when we tell the rest of our families, of course,” Rachel says. “We can’t tell him too soon, Finn, he won’t understand why we need to get married and stay married.”

“Yeah,” Finn sighs. “You’re probably right. Ok. Shit. Ok, we’ll figure this all out. I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m really sorry about this.”

“It will work out,” Rachel says softly. “How long are you going to be in New York? I might have another appointment before you go back to Chicago.”

“Two more weeks,” Finn says. “Are they doing another one of the ultrasounds? Because I can’t tell if there’s anything in this picture at all, to be honest with you. It just sort of looks like a smudge.”

Rachel giggles a little and nods. “The first one is just so they can have as exact of a date as possible. But they’ll do at least a short one at every appointment, I think!”

“If I’m still in town, I’ll go with you, then,” Finn says. “And I’ll make sure you and the baby have all the vitamins and stuff you need before I go back to Chicago.”

“I’ll send you all the dates as soon as I have them,” Rachel agrees. “We should have lunch again next week, don’t you think?”

Finn makes himself smile at Rachel. This isn’t what he wants. It’s not his dream life, but it’s probably not hers, either, and they have to make the most of it. “Sure. We can try that Thai place that has the tofu thing you were talking about,” he says.

He’s not sure what this means for him, long term. He isn’t sure what this means for him with Kurt and Puck, if he should go behind Rachel’s back and tell them, and risk Kurt confronting Rachel, or if he should lie to them and keep it a secret. Both options feel horrible. Neither option seems right. He still has two more weeks in New York to decide, though, and a little over a month until the wedding. He can figure it out before then. Somehow, he can figure out the right thing to do and say that will keep from hurting everyone.

 

Everything is coming to an end, Noah can't help but think, even though that's not really true. Their grad school program is coming to an end, though, and Finn's fake relationship with Rachel is coming to an end, and the combination makes it hard for Noah to remember that Finn actually has two more seasons with the Bears. A full year more, plus another seven or eight months on top of that. It's not two full years, though, and somehow that makes it seem a little more manageable.

More than that, while the fact Finn doesn't actually marry Rachel will make a few people immediately suspicious, the majority of the mainstream media will understand him being single for awhile. Even the Bears themselves should understand it, and if they start putting pressure on Finn at the beginning of the 2019 season, well. Noah figures they will handle that scenario only if it actually comes up, and there's only seventeen weeks in an NFL season.

"Just a couple more weeks," Noah says as he sits down next to Kurt, the television mercifully, blissfully silent. Hannah likes the television on, blaring and in the background, which isn't all that compatible with Kurt singing, the two of them writing songs, or listening to music, which tend to be their default positions. Noah can't help but glare at the television for a moment, and he hears Kurt laugh.

"She's spending the night at Ana's, remember? No argument over television tonight," Kurt says, leaning his head against Noah.

"We need to make sure whatever summer job she finds is opposite our schedule," Noah grumbles. "I can't believe she applied at the _dog_ shop, blue eyes. What is Ennis going to think?"

"I think they have a small selection of cat items," Kurt points out. "Anyway, she may just end up at Pioneer or Trader Joe's or something."

"She should work at Alice's so we can get a discount," Noah says, grinning a little and wrapping his arm around Kurt.

"You just want more excuses to eat chocolate for breakfast." Kurt falls silent for a minute before continuing. "Yes, just a few more weeks. I don't know how it's all going to fall out."

Because they haven't really _talked_ to Finn, not since the end of February. He came to New York for three weeks, and they skirted around any issues for the entire time. The first week was good, and then Finn had started acting strange for the two weeks after that. It could easily have been that he was bored, though, and at loose ends, especially with Noah and Kurt at work, class, or rehearsal almost every waking hour. The only exceptions had been—and still are—Saturdays, when they only have rehearsal, and Tuesday, when they only have classes. They're stretched out, worn out, and Noah doesn't see how there's much point in trying to work everything out with Finn until some of the stressors are gone. There will be the end of their semester, the dramatic breakup, the media surrounding it, and graduation, and then they'll sit down and really have a conversation. Or something like a conversation.

"Yeah, me either," Noah admits. "Carole's going to freak. We should make sure we know where the nearest hospital is or something, in case she collapses."

Kurt laughs, almost looking guilty. "No, we'll have to make sure she doesn't try to bodily force them to get married anyway. She's going to be more upset than anyone. More upset than either of them would be if it were a real breakup."

"Audrey's going to be confused," Noah says.

"Yes, I have a feeling that Carole's been talking up Rachel as Audrey's 'new sister'." Kurt makes a face. "Thank god I don't have to actually claim her as a sister-in-law." He shudders as Noah laughs, then Kurt raises his eyebrows. "You would have to, too!"

"I already have to share a religion with her. Sort of." Noah shakes his head. "I mean, I'm not overly surprised she goes to a Conservative synagogue now, and I'm sure she'd find CBST not to her taste, but in theory."

"Jewish-ish for you, Jewish for her?" Kurt says wryly.

"Yeah, exactly." Noah sighs. "Performance next week. We're almost there, blue eyes."

"Almost there, baby," Kurt echoes. "By Memorial Day all this stress will seem like a different time. Right?"

"Yeah," Noah agrees, even though sometimes he wonders if it's true. He has to believe it, and he knows Kurt has to believe it, too. It will be _better_ , Noah knows, because Finn will finally be free of the fake relationship, and that alone will make it better. Stressless, though; that's the part Noah's not sure about.

 

Kurt knows immediately it’s Finn waking him up. He shifts, Noah deadweight beside him, and Kurt winces. They’re all going to need ibuprofen to get through the next day. Syd had planned a very classy bachelor party, especially considering it is all for a wedding that isn’t actually taking place. Suits, people who make more money in a year than Kurt’s dad has probably made in his entire life, cigars, and very expensive scotch. The three of them had been in various stages of drunk when they arrived back at the apartment, and Kurt isn’t sure if Finn’s been asleep and woke up, or if he’s been awake since they got back, Noah and Kurt falling asleep and leaving him awake by himself. Kurt doubts Noah will wake up again, at least not until it’s closer to early morning than the middle of the night.

“Finn?” Kurt whispers.

Finn slips underneath the blankets with Kurt, climbing on top of him, mouth finding Kurt’s in the darkness. Kurt can tell immediately that Finn’s been awake, because he tastes like he’s been smoking, and not just the cigar hours earlier at the party, but bitter like a cigarette. Kurt kisses him regardless, putting one hand in Finn’s hair, and deepening the kiss before he pulls away.

“You taste like ashes, darling,” he says quietly.

Finn rests his forehead against Kurt’s, not saying anything. He runs the backs of his hands down Kurt’s cheeks and down his neck, then over Kurt’s shoulders and down his chest, turning his hands over to hold Kurt’s waist. He tilts his head down to kiss the side of Kurt’s neck, his mouth moving down to the juncture with Kurt’s shoulder, hands tightening around Kurt’s waist.

Kurt lets his head fall to the side, blinking as he slowly makes out more and more of Finn’s features despite the lack of light. “Finn.”

“Please,” Finn murmurs into Kurt’s shoulder. “Please, Kurt. Need you.”

“I’m right here, darling,” Kurt says. “I’m right here, we’re here, Finn.”

The hands around Kurt’s waist travel to his back, Finn’s fingers spread to cover most of Kurt’s mid and lower back as Finn pulls Kurt against him. “Need to be inside you,” Finn says quietly. “Kurt. Please.”

Kurt can feel his breath catch, both at the request and the plaintive note in Finn’s voice. It’s been almost exactly four years since it was just the two of them with Finn deep inside Kurt. Before Kurt realizes he’s made a conscious decision, he begins to nod. Finn starts kissing Kurt’s neck again, rocking his body against Kurt’s. His hands move up and down Kurt’s back slowly, kneading the muscles and running his thumbs along the edges of Kurt’s shoulder blades. Kurt arches towards Finn, moving his lips until he catches the corner of Finn’s mouth.

Finn turns his face, opening his mouth against Kurt’s. Kurt lets his mouth fall open, his tongue pushing into Finn’s mouth, and he tightens the hand in Finn’s hair, holding Finn there for a long moment before pulling back just enough to whisper against Finn’s lips.

“Yes, darling.”

Finn crushes his mouth against Kurt’s, and Kurt grabs at Finn’s shoulder with the hand not in Finn’s hair, his fingers digging in. After a moment, Finn removes one of his hands from Kurt’s back and fumbles for the bottle of lube on top of the bedside table. Finn slides the hand still on Kurt’s back down to Kurt’s hip, stroking the skin over Kurt’s hipbone with his thumb a few times before moving his hand again, this time wrapping his fingers around Kurt’s cock.

Kurt pushes into Finn’s hand, and he registers himself whimpering, hearing it rather than being aware of making the sound. He slides his hands down to Finn’s shoulders, stroking lightly. Finn keeps kissing Kurt with increased desperation as he moves his hand on Kurt’s cock for another few moments before pulling away. Soon, he’s pushing one slick finger inside of Kurt, his mouth finding the side of Kurt’s neck again. Kurt rocks his hips, whimpering again.

“Oh, god, darling.” Kurt almost sputters the words as he moves both of his hands to Finn’s chest, resting them just under Finn’s nipples. Finn slowly moves his finger in and out of Kurt while he nips at the side of Kurt’s neck. “More, please.”

“Need to be inside you,” Finn says. “Now. Kurt, please? Tell me I can.”

“Yes, Finn.” Kurt brings one hand up to Finn’s face. “You can.”

Finn slips his finger out of Kurt, and Kurt can hear the lid of the lube bottle opening and closing again before Finn presses his lips to Kurt’s. He runs his tongue along Kurt’s bottom lip, the head of his cock nudging against Kurt’s entrance, and Finn’s tongue pushes into Kurt’s mouth as his cock slowly pushes inside.

Kurt feels himself shudder around Finn, and he pulls his mouth away from Finn’s, putting his lips against Finn’s ear. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Oh, god, love you, darling. You don’t have to be that slow, please, Finn.”

Finn keeps moving slowly, though, wrapping his arms around Kurt and he keeps moving forward until he’s completely inside Kurt, where he stills. “Love you,” Finn says quietly. “I love you so much, Kurt. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Kurt agrees, rolling his hips towards Finn slightly. “I love you too.”

Finn’s head drops forward so his face is pressed against Kurt’s shoulder. “And I love Puck. I love him so much. I love both of you so much.” He rocks his hips back slowly before thrusting into Kurt, then does it again, faster this time. “I love you so much.”

“And we love you, Finn,” Kurt says softly. He doesn’t know why Finn is asserting it, sounding almost like he’s going to have a panic attack, but Kurt can reassure him, at least. Maybe Finn’s afraid of what the next day will bring, or afraid of everyone figuring it out. Kurt just doesn’t know, but whatever it is, Finn needs Kurt right now.

Finn moves faster, thrusting harder into Kurt, and Kurt can hear Finn muttering against the skin of Kurt’s shoulder. The words aren’t completely discernible, but it sounds almost like, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Kurt wraps his legs around Finn, his hands around Finn’s neck, and meets Finn’s movements with his own. “I love you,” Kurt whispers. “Noah loves you. We love you, darling.” Whyever Finn is sorry, whatever is happening, at least Kurt can reassure him of that.

Finn lets out a noise that sounds like a choked sob. He presses his lips against Kurt’s shoulder and pushes into him even harder, his hands grasping at Kurt’s back hard enough that Kurt can feel Finn’s fingernails scraping and gouging his skin. Kurt clings to Finn, his arms tightening around Finn’s neck, and he presses up into each thrust, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of Finn around him.

“Kurt,” Finn says into Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt. Please. Tell me. Tell me. Oh, god, _please_ tell me.”

“Come for me, Finn,” Kurt whispers, sliding one hand back up into Finn’s hair and cupping the back of his head. “Come for me, darling.”

Finn cries out, the sound almost a sob, and comes, his body shuddering as he thrusts into Kurt a few more times. Kurt reaches between them, sliding his hand up and down his own cock several times before he comes as well, his hand dropping to the bed as he exhales loudly. Finn shifts slightly to the side before letting his weight drop, his face still pressed against the juncture of Kurt’s neck and shoulder. “Oh, god, Kurt,” Finn says in a small voice. “I love you two so much.”

“We love you, too,” Kurt replies, and as he finishes speaking, Noah’s hand wraps around the hand Kurt let fall to the bed. Noah squeezes it, and Kurt returns the squeeze silently.

 

It’s a farce. It’s a complete farce, yet there everyone is, standing and looking expectantly at the rabbi Rachel found as he says all the right words so Rachel and Finn can be legally married. Rachel and her friend from Juilliard are standing on one side of him under the chuppah, and Finn and Syd on the other side, which Noah thinks Rachel might _still_ be snitty about. Noah isn’t sure what’s gone wrong; maybe they’re planning to dramatically storm out at the last minute, or maybe he’s wrong, and it’s not a legal wedding. Either way, Carole is sniffing quietly into a handkerchief, Hiram and Leroy look like they’re going to swoon any second, and Kurt looks shellshocked.

Finn, for his part, looks drunk, or maybe only to Noah, because he knows it started with two beers back at their apartment, which were chased by at least two more drinks from the open bar already set up for the reception. Rachel doesn’t look drunk at all, just giddy, and the ceremony winds to a close with a dreadful sort of finality. Rachel must have insisted on breaking a wine glass, but it takes two tries before Finn hits it and breaks it, which makes Rachel look pissed instead of giddy, at least for a little bit. Hiram and a few others call out “Mazel tov!” and Noah presses his lips together in a firm scowl. If Carole notices, he’ll let her bitch later.

Finn and Rachel walk back down the aisle and someone from the venue starts herding all of the guests to the reception room, probably so they can take pictures or whatever in the room where they’re all sitting. Kurt’s grip on Noah’s hand is tight, which is the only thing reminding Noah that they’re in reality and not some messed up dream resulting from cigars, scotch, and Xanax the night before.

Kurt leads them straight to the aforementioned bar, ordering two Americanos once he finds out they have Campari Bitter. Kurt steps to the side while the bartender mixes them, and Syd walks up, her face firmly fixed in a frown.

“Double Jameson on the rocks,” she says to the bartender, then turns to Noah and Kurt. “I don’t know.”

“Did they actually sign it?” Noah asks quietly, because that’s the last tendril of hope he has.

Syd sighs and nods, closing her eyes briefly. “Yeah. It’s legal.”

“Fuck,” Kurt says under his breath. “I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what it was.”

“I’m sorry,” Syd says, picking up the drink the bartender hands to her. “I don’t know what it is, either.”

“Blackmail?” Noah suggests, picking up their drinks and handing one to Kurt, who takes a sip and makes a face.

“I thought— I thought he would have told one of us.” Syd shrugs helplessly. “I have to take this to him.”

“Yeah,” Noah says, nodding. “Yeah.” They watch Syd walk back out of the room and drink their admittedly bitter cocktails, watching the mass of people that are supposedly Rachel and Finn’s nearest and dearest mill about. Noah’s pretty sure they are actually people that Rachel hopes will give her a job or at least a good connection.

After about fifteen minutes, and a second pair of cocktails, Burt approaches them. “We’re doing family pictures now,” he says to Kurt, gesturing towards the room where Finn and Rachel are apparently being photographed. “Carole wants one with all of us in it.”

“Oh, how nice,” Kurt says, and Noah wonders if Burt sometimes forgets that Kurt’s spent years perfecting his acting skills. He puts down his glass and smiles insincerely at Burt, taking Noah’s hand, but Burt doesn’t notice. Most people don’t notice when Kurt’s smiles are insincere, really, which means the reception will be a little bit easier for Kurt than it otherwise would have been.

They follow Burt out of the room and then Kurt stops suddenly. “Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Burt asks, turning to look at Kurt with concern.

“My stomach.” Kurt presses one hand to his stomach and the other to his cheek. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten so much beforehand. Do you think the food was bad, Noah?”

Noah has to swallow twice before he can answer without cracking up. “I guess it could have been, K,” he manages to agree.

“You need me to see if the event planner can get you a cool cloth or something? It’s just a few pictures, and then I think they’ve got a couch in that back room if you need to lie down for a little while,” Burt offers.

“I may need to visit the restroom,” Kurt says, and Noah knows he doesn’t quite school his expression quickly enough. “Noah, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure,” Noah agrees, nodding and trying not to smile inadvertently. Burt glares at Noah briefly, then nods his head once.

“Well, hopefully you’ll feel up to joining us. It would mean a lot to Carole to have a picture of all you boys together.”

“Of course, Dad,” Kurt says, then pulls Noah towards the restrooms. Thankfully, it’s a single-use bathroom, and Kurt locks it immediately before starting to run some water in the sink. “I am not doing that. I can’t, baby. I can’t.”

“I know.” Noah wraps his arms around Kurt and they lean on each other for a long time.

“So that’s what last night was about,” Kurt says flatly after several minutes have passed. He drags a hand across his eyes, but they do look like they could just be the result of puking for awhile. “It was him apologizing in advance for…” He stops and lets out a hysterical-sounding giggle. “He dumped us! In public! But no one else knew. Except for Syd and Hannah.”

“Maybe it doesn’t count as public if no one knows?” Noah offers. “What does she have on him, blue eyes?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admits. “I have no idea, but it must be something.”

The water runs for another three or four minutes before Kurt shuts it off and examines himself in the mirror. “Do I look suitably ill?”

“Yeah,” Noah says with a laugh, kissing him. “But you don’t taste sick, so don’t let anyone else kiss you.”

“And here Syd and I had a great evening planned.” Kurt laughs. “Come on, let’s go convince Carole and Dad that I am not up to pictures, if Carole tried to make them wait.”

When they leave the restroom, they go back into the reception, and within three minutes, Burt finds them again. “You two missed the pictures. The photographer wanted to hurry them on to cake cutting.”

Kurt frowns. “Did we miss the cake being cut, too?”

“The server’s cutting up guest slices, but yeah,” Burt says, frowning. “You feeling alright, kid? You’re looking a little rough around the edges. Maybe lay off the cigars next time.”

Kurt manages a laugh. “I think it’s just a little food poisoning, Dad. I’ll be fine, but I do think I’ll skip eating any cake.”

 

By the time that Finn and Rachel prepare to leave the reception, Kurt at least knows Finn isn’t _happy_ about whatever coerced him into actually marrying Rachel. He looks drunk and miserable, though only four or five of the people there seem to realize how drunk he is. He’s able to walk in a straight line and perform the expected duties, so no one really appears to care. The pomp and ceremony is exactly what Kurt had thought he wanted at his own wedding, when he was a child, but seeing it play out, he’s convinced even more that he much prefers the way he and Noah handled theirs. 

Rachel and Leroy come up to Kurt halfway through the reception, asking him to sing, and he thinks he’s managed to put them off until Syd comes up ten minutes later. 

“It’s going to be a thing,” Syd says. “You missed the pictures – not that I blame you, wish I’d thought of that for myself, or maybe actually outright poisoning Finn. Anyway, Rachel’s going to talk to Finn’s mom and your dad about how disappointing it is, so maybe? Just pick something as a ‘fuck you’ and do that.”

Kurt sighs and looks at Noah. “Any thoughts on a song we can get away with?”

“Hmm.” Noah frowns for a few moments, then nods. “Yeah, I can think of a couple.”

“Okay.” Syd squares her shoulders. “I’ll go tell Rachel. It’ll probably be about five or ten minutes.”

And five minutes later, Rachel grabs a microphone and starts talking. “We have a special treat! I know we’re all enjoying the DJ, but my brand-new brother-in-law is going to sing for us! Ladies and gentleman, Kurt Hummel, accompanied by his husband, Noah.”

Kurt can’t help but look over at Finn, who looks startled and perhaps a bit horrified. Kurt walks to the microphone, and Noah follows, sitting down at the piano. Kurt sighs and closes his eyes, listening to the first notes play. Noah had suggested a couple of songs that he could easily play stripped down with just the piano, and Kurt had looked up the lyrics before making his final decision. 

_I remember when we were gambling to win  
Everybody else said better luck next time_

It just sounds sad and mournful, which probably isn’t appropriate for a wedding, but Kurt can point out to anyone that asks that he had absolutely no time to prepare. He’s doing well just to remember all of the lyrics. 

_Is it ever gonna be enough_  
Is it ever gonna be enough  
Is it ever gonna be enough 

As Kurt finishes and Noah plays the last notes, he finally opens his eyes and looks up, staring directly at Finn. Finn’s staring back, eyes sad, and Kurt presses his lips together before looking away, walking over to the piano as Noah closes it.

Finn and Rachel leave in a flurry of bubbles about an hour later, which Kurt boycotts blowing. He has no idea where Finn is going, because as far as _Kurt_ knew, there was no honeymoon planned, because there wasn’t supposed to be an actual wedding.

Some of the guests start to leave, and Noah and Kurt drift back towards the piano as goodbyes are said and people filter out. Noah sits down first, playing a few bars, and Kurt smiles sadly, recognizing the song, and sits next to him. Kurt picks out a chord or two for the bass, and Noah starts to play again, this time with the two of them singing softly.

_I heard that you're settled down_  
That you found a girl and you're married now.  
I heard that your dreams came true.  
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you. 

_Old friend, why are you so shy?  
Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light._

No one looks at the two of them, Kurt can tell. People are still chatting or getting ready to leave; Carole and Hiram have a circle of people around them, and Burt is chatting with Leroy. Everyone seems perfectly happy, or at least everyone Kurt can see; he isn’t sure where Syd and Hannah are.

_You know how the time flies_  
Only yesterday was the time of our lives  
We were born and raised  
In a summer haze  
Bound by the surprise of our glory days 

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_  
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.  
I'd hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded  
That for me it isn't over. 

They sing the entire song, gradually getting louder, and still there’s no comment on their impromptu duet, not until after they stand up and Noah closes the piano.

“I’ll take Hannah home with me,” Syd says quietly as she and Hannah walk up to them. Hannah darts forward, giving first Kurt and then Noah a hug. She tries to smile and fails, grimacing in a move so reminiscent of Noah that it finally does make Kurt smile, if briefly.

“Let me know if I need to stay two nights,” is all Hannah says, walking away with Syd, and Syd looks back over her shoulder.

“I got this,” she mouths. “Don’t worry.”

And they won’t worry, not about Hannah. They know they’re not perfect guardians, but Hannah has other adults besides them that she can count on, and Kurt rarely worries about Hannah, at least in that respect.

“We should go home,” Noah says quietly. “We should— sleep, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, nodding. They slip out without Burt or Carole noticing, and Kurt hails a taxi. He has cash in his pocket, cash that Finn slipped him a day ago, or two days ago, and Kurt thinks it’s only appropriate to splurge on a taxi with it.

"Why won't I wake up?" Kurt murmurs as they climb into a taxi. Noah squeezes Kurt's hand as he leans forward and gives the driver their address.

"Because this nightmare is reality," Noah says softly. “I’m still so confused.”

“I know.” Kurt sighs. “I knew something was wrong. I don’t know _why_ though, and I— I want to know why.” Noah nods silently; there’s really nothing to say to that, Kurt knows.

When they arrive, Kurt overpays the cabbie before they walk inside, arm in arm. When they approach their door, Kurt can see there’s a large box sitting in front of it, a white note fluttering on top.

Noah picks it up, reading it out loud as Kurt unlocks the door. “'We heard. Thought you'd need this. Love you guys, Mike and Tina.'” Noah sighs and looks in the box. "Alcohol. The hard stuff."

"Mike and Tina are brilliant, brilliant people." Kurt holds the door open long enough for Noah to move the box inside. "Are there two bottles?"

"Four, actually. Guess they figured we'd need it more than one night."

"Good. We don't even need to get glasses dirty, then." Kurt takes off his clothes, leaving them in a pile near the door, and wishes he could just get rid of the suit. Maybe if they sold them, they’d almost have enough to replace one of them, and Noah could probably wait a few months to replace his, if necessary. Once Kurt’s naked, he examines the bottles and picks up some dark rum, heading for the couch. Noah appears a few moments later, also undressed and carrying a bottle of liquor, though his is bourbon.

Noah sinks onto the couch and they open their respective bottles in silence, before Noah raises his. "A toast."

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t required to give a toast.” Kurt mirrors the gesture with a snort. "To Rachel Berry and Carole Hudson," he says mockingly. "And to their fondest dreams becoming reality."

Noah laughs brittlely, and they each take a long drink from their respective bottles. “I guess we know who the real winners today were. And they weren’t us.”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head slowly. “That’s a loss for triads. Also for non-heterosexual people. It was a win for Carole Hudson and her imaginary perfect child.”

“We’ll understand some day,” Noah says morosely, staring at his bottle like he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying.

“Sure,” Kurt agrees, drinking more of the rum. “Sure we will. But until then, can we wish for very bad things for Rachel Berry?”

“No roles,” Noah agrees. “We should socialize with her and V2 at the same time. We can talk about V2’s Tony nomination.”

Kurt giggles. “Rachel _hates_ that. It’s soooo sad, baby.”

“Let’s just get drunk,” Noah says.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, nodding. “Let’s just get drunk. Maybe it won’t hurt as much in the morning if our heads hurt too much.”

 

Their seats are in first class, and Finn has another drink on the plane before it ever takes off. He falls asleep—Rachel calls it passing out, and that may be what it is, but who cares what he calls it at this point—and sleeps for the entire flight to whichever island it is Rachel booked their hotel at. Something in the Caribbean, he thinks, but apparently he doesn’t really have to know, because they’re picked up in a car at the airport and driven straight to the resort, where Finn _does_ pass out. If Rachel gets her wedding night, she has to manage it without any assistance on Finn’s part, and he doesn’t remember any of it, which is more than fine by him.

Finn keeps telling himself he’s doing this for the baby and that makes it all alright, but he saw Kurt and Puck’s faces at the wedding. He knows what he’s doing to them, keeping this all a secret, going through with the wedding while still letting them believe it wasn’t going to happen; it’s the single worst thing he’s ever done, but he couldn’t see an alternative then and can’t see one now. Rachel hinted more than once between her original announcement of her pregnancy and the wedding that Finn going through with the marriage was the _only_ way to make the baby thing work. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this baby, no matter what else it means about his life.

Rachel made all the honeymoon arrangements. All Finn knows is there’s a wet bar in the room, another bar by the pool, and a bar in the restaurant inside. He wakes up that first morning and goes on a run, hits the workout room, and is by the pool with a drink in his hand before Rachel wakes up at nine. She finds him reclining in a beach chair and perches on the edge of the chair next to him, frowning at the glass in his hand.

“They have a spa here, Finn!” she chirps at him. “I thought we could do a couples massage.”

“Yeah. Massage,” Finn says, nodding and taking a sip of his brightly-colored rum punch while he continues staring past the pool at the ocean beyond. “You should do that.”

“ _Couples_ massage,” she repeats.

“I’ll pass,” Finn tells her, and he lets his attention drift back to the clear blue water he can see beyond the pool. Rachel sits there for a few more minutes before she gives up and stands, walking off to the spa or the room or wherever it is she ends up going.

Finn stays by the pool all day, drinking rum punch, and doesn’t see her again until dinner, where he turns up pleasantly drunk and moderately sunburned. That night he’s aware enough of what’s happening when she climbs into the bed and on top of him, but no amount of thinking about Kurt or Puck can make him forget where he is, who he’s with, and when he doesn’t come despite what’s probably her best effort, Rachel looks disappointed.

“You don’t have to worry about the baby, Finn,” she tells him. “My doctor and all the books say that it’s perfectly safe to continue to have intercourse throughout pregnancy.”

Finn nods at her in the low light of the room, like she’s figured it out, and that, at least, seems to satisfy her for the night.

The rest of the week passes in a blur. Rachel goes to the spa every day, gets a car into town to shop, takes a ferry across to another island—though Finn still isn’t sure which one they’re _on_ , let alone which one she takes the ferry to—to go to the shops there. Finn stays by the pool and drinks, layering burn on top of burn until his skin seems to finally give up and starts to tan. He doesn’t walk down to the beach or go to the casino. He wakes up, runs, goes to the weight room, and then installs himself by the pool and drinks all day. He doesn’t shave, not even for dinner, and he doesn’t actually eat that much dinner.

On the fourth day of their honeymoon, Rachel sits on the chair next to his and asks, “Are you planning on staying drunk the entire time we’re here?”

“Yep,” Finn says. He doesn’t say anything else—what else is there to say?—and Rachel finally gets up and walks away. Finn finishes his drink, lowers the back of his chair, and flips onto his stomach so he can burn-tan his back, too.

He doesn’t call them. He doesn’t text them or email them. He doesn’t talk about them, and when Rachel brings them up, he either changes the subject or just doesn’t answer at all. He knows he shouldn’t be resentful; she didn’t get pregnant on purpose and he agreed to go through with the wedding. He just can’t help thinking that this is it, this is his life now, football and Rachel and a baby, and that the other things he wanted, the plans he made and the dreams he had for himself, the life he had wanted with Kurt and Puck, can’t ever happen.

The worst part is he has nobody to blame but himself.

 

Noah looks skeptically at the 'academic attire' they have to put on. "We paid sixty-eight bucks to _rent_ this?"

"It's the hood that makes it," Kurt agrees dryly.

"Oh, definitely." Noah laughs, then sticks his head out of the bedroom door. "Hannah! We have to leave in ten!"

"I'll be ready!" Hannah calls back a few beats later.

"Uh-huh," Noah says, shrugging. "Why'd it have to rain today?"

"I could make a comment about it dampening our enthusiasm, but that's a little too obvious, I think," Kurt replies with a smirk. They pick up their hangers and walk into the living room, because there’s no point in getting even more layers of fabric wet sooner than necessary.

"Do I have to sit with Burt and Carole?" Hannah asks when she appears. "It's just Yankee Stadium. And I’ll find you two afterwards, and even if I didn’t, I know how to get from Yankee Stadium back to the Upper West Side."

"You have to at least make an effort to find them," Kurt says after a moment. Kurt makes a face, and Noah can guess at what he's thinking.

After they proceeded to get drunk on Saturday night, Burt had called at ten the next morning, suggesting they meet for brunch. Brunch had turned into Carole's recounting of the entire wedding. Since both Kurt and Noah were hungover, it added more legitimacy to Kurt's story of food poisoning the day before, at least. They'd avoided Burt and Carole on Monday, but on Tuesday evening there was a graduation celebration of sorts down near NYU, and they'd met up with Burt, Carole, and Audrey there, though thankfully they'd convinced Mike and Tina to join them too. Carole had kept trying to steer the conversation back to the wedding until finally it had fallen to Tina to smile sweetly and say she couldn't wait to see the pictures, but since now it was Kurt and Noah's graduation celebration, maybe the focus could shift? Carole had glared at Tina the rest of the night.

"We need to remember to send Tina a gift basket," Noah says as he picks up an umbrella. "In addition to the gift basket we need to send Mike and Tina for Saturday night."

"Zabar's," Kurt says. "She always stops at Zabar's." He laughs for a moment. "Luckily, Tina doesn't care about Carole's opinion of her."

"Yeah, good point," Noah says, grinning.

"That was hilarious." Hannah giggles as they leave the apartment. "I thought Carole was going to spontaneously combust or something, like in chemistry. Boom!"

"They haven't left the city yet, so who can say," Kurt says with a sigh. "There's still time."

They get a couple of disinterested looks on the way up to Yankee Stadium. Noah's not sure how it happens that NYU does their big graduation at Yankee Stadium, but it's cool, and Tisch's smaller celebration is on Friday at Radio City Music Hall. Only about half of their classmates were going to do the big ceremony; Noah overheard a few of them sounding bored about it.

Noah never really thought he'd make it to college, not until late in his junior year; he certainly never figured on graduate school. Finishing grad school and graduating feels a little unreal, and the fact is, there's someone missing.

Finn's the only one left who really knows just where Noah started. Oh, sure, Carole has an inkling, but she's so focused on Finn and has been for years now that Noah almost doesn't recognize the woman that fed him blue cheese dressing and let him spend the night so frequently. And Hannah sort of knows, but not the same way. She doesn't remember anything before about age four, and by then Noah was at McKinley. No, Finn's the only one left, and Noah had thought he would be there.

It didn't hit right away, but by Wednesday morning, Noah is acutely aware of it. This wasn't the plan, and he's almost more angry about Finn missing their graduation stuff than he is about the fucking wedding itself.

Hannah goes towards gate four with a promise to try to find Burt and Carole, though it's accompanied by a wink, and they put on their 'academic attire' before entering at gate eight. They have to be seated by 10:15 and then wait for everything to start at 11, and Noah can't help but look around and snort a little at the fact that they are in a baseball stadium.

"It's an unusual venue, I'll grant you," Kurt says, picking up on Noah's thoughts. "Too bad we didn't each get a free game ticket, too?"

Noah laughs. "Yeah, that would've been cool."

The ceremony is long; a representative of each school accepts a symbolic diploma, and at the end, the president confers all the degrees, so it's official, even though they won't get the real things in the mail for another six weeks. At the end, they take a few pictures and then head outside, to try to find Burt, Carole, Audrey, and Hannah.

They find Hannah first, and she shrugs when she sees them. "I had to give up trying to find them," she says innocently. "I should have checked my phone, I suppose, but I had it on silent ahead of time."

"Of course you did." Noah shakes his head.

"So how does it feel! You officially have another degree!" Hannah smirks at them as she speaks.

Kurt laughs. "About like we officially have another degree. I think the profound sense of accomplishment and relief was last Thursday when the curtain went down."

"Yeah, exactly." All nine musicals their cycle had produced had been performed over three days the previous week, and Kurt and Noah had managed to draw the last performance on the last day. It had meant two extra days for rehearsals, which was good, but also an extra two days to worry about how it would turn out. Noah had felt done with the program at that moment, for all that they had had to have one last 'debriefing' series of meetings on Monday.

"I did remember to change the number on the reservation for lunch," Kurt says quietly as they see Burt, Carole, and Audrey approaching. "I suppose that would have been difficult to explain if I'd forgotten."

"Possibly," Noah concedes with a little sigh. "Well. Here we go." The three of them shift their facial expressions, though Hannah rolls her eyes at the same time, which disturbs the facade slightly.

"There you are, Hannah!" Carole says. "We kept looking for you. Were you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hannah says dismissively. "And here we all are!"

“Hannah!” Audrey yells, leaping on Hannah like she didn’t just see her at the wedding and then the brunch a few days before.

“Hi, Audrey,” Hannah says with a laugh, picking up Audrey and swinging her briefly before setting her back down. “Did you get bored?”

“I want to go to the doll store, but they won’t take me to the doll store!” Audrey complains. “My _Finn_ would take me to the doll store and buy me a doll!”

“Well, maybe the three of us could take you tomorrow,” Hannah says quietly to Audrey, and Noah’s not sure Burt or Carole can hear her clearly.

“My Finn would buy me the blue dress for Stephanie _and_ the dress-up dress,” Audrey says. “ _Beth_ has the blue dress and the dress-up dress!”

“We’ll figure out something fun to do tomorrow,” Kurt says more loudly, looking at Burt and Carole. “To make up for you having to be bored again on Friday. How does that sound, Audrey?”

“He would buy me the pet cat for Stephanie, too,” Audrey says, with an expression that strongly resembles Kurt’s when he’s pulling one over on somebody. “Probably her boots, too. The Docs boots.”

“I don’t know why they insist Doc Martens are historical,” Kurt sniffs. “I’ve always had at least a pair or two.”

“Stephanie’s boots have pictures on them!” Audrey says, taking Kurt’s hand.

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Kurt says with a wink, then glances at Burt and Carole.

“Is she still talking about that doll store?” Burt asks. “It’s all we’ve heard about since we got here. You’d think there was enough other stuff going on to distract her, but no, it’s all dolls, dolls, dolls.”

“You know, the first time I heard about it, Allison called it ‘little girl crack’,” Noah points out, grinning. “I think she was right.”

“Well, congratulations!” Carole says almost abruptly. “What an unusual graduation ceremony!”

“Seems like only yesterday you were graduating from kindergarten, wearing that little suit you made me buy for you with the tiny clip-on tie,” Burt says to Kurt, shaking his head. “And how mad you got when you found out that tie wasn’t real.”

“Age is no excuse for poor sartorial choices, Dad,” Kurt says. “Even for kindergarten.”

“Did you see my shoes?” Audrey asks, looking up at Kurt. “They had real heels, Kurt!”

“Ah, yes,” Kurt says, though Noah’s not sure Kurt noticed much of anything the day of the wedding. “I did. They were lovely.”

“I threw all the flowers on the ground, but I didn’t really. I kept the best one,” Audrey confesses.

“I don’t blame you,” Kurt says, smiling at her. “Are you ready for lunch?”

“Mom says I can have a pop!”

“Oh, that is exciting.” Kurt grins at Hannah. “Should Noah and I let Hannah have a pop?”

“Yes,” Audrey says. “Or she can sit by me and share my pop. Or she can sit by me and have her own pop.”

“Hear that?” Noah says to Hannah. “You can have some pop, squirt.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Noah.”

“You’re welcome!” Noah shoots back.

“They’re silly sometimes,” Kurt says to Audrey.

“It’s because they’re Puckermans,” Audrey says, her tone serious. “That’s what Finn says.”

 

Noah is pretty sure neither he nor Kurt cares about what’s on the television, but they don’t   
have an assignment to work on, they’ve finished work for the day, and they had agreed to take until the first of June before starting anything in earnest in terms of work they’ve actually trained to do. It’s a good decision, but they both feel a little bit at loose ends.

The show is at a quiet portion, or Noah’s not sure they would have heard the knock on the door. It’s soft and tentative, the kind of knock that small Girl Scouts use when selling cookies, or when someone’s lost the exact apartment number they’re visiting. Noah frowns and stands up, going to the door and then looking through the peephole.

“Fuck.”

“Noah?” Kurt says, walking up beside him.

“It’s—” Noah stops himself and takes a deep breath. “It’s Finn.” Unshaven, actually tan, and relatively miserable looking, but it’s Finn.

“Oh.” Kurt takes a shaky breath and steadies himself against the wall with one hand. “Well. What do you want to do, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Noah admits. “I guess— someone has to be the bigger person, right?”

“Probably.”

They can’t avoid Finn forever. They can’t even avoid him for more than a week or two at a time, really, even if that was what they wanted to do. Noah nods, more to himself than anything, and unlocks the door, opening it and staring silently at Finn.

Finn shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking down at the ground and only occasionally glancing up at Noah. “So,” he says softly, but doesn’t continue.

“That was quite a surprise you had for us,” Noah says evenly. “You want to do this out here or inside?”

“I’m sorry,” Finn says, still quiet. “I’ll go. I shouldn’t’ve just shown up. I’ll go.”

“What, you wanted to make an appointment?” Noah asks incredulously.

“That was also a rhetorical question,” Kurt says. “As was the first one.”

“I don’t know if I should stay or go,” Finn says, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Just tell me which one you want me to do.”

“Come in and tell us whatever it is you came over to tell us,” Kurt says briskly, stepping back from the doorway. “Hannah won’t be home for another hour or two.”

Finn walks inside the apartment, closing the door behind him and standing by it awkwardly, still shifting his weight, his hands in his pockets. He smells like rum and looks even worse than he did through the peephole, and Noah walks back to the couch with a wave of his hand. Kurt follows, the two of them sitting on the couch, and Kurt gestures towards the empty chair as he looks at Finn. Finn sits in the chair obediently, pulling his hands out of his pockets and resting them on his knees, fingers moving restlessly.

“I don’t— I don’t know what to say,” Finn says.

“You could start with _why_ ,” Kurt says sharply. “Why you didn’t warn us, why you did it in the first place, why you made us feel like _shit_.”

Finn hangs his head and his fingers keep moving, picking at the knees of his jeans. “I had to. I know you don’t understand, you guys, but I had to. I had to do it. I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry, but I had to.”

“And that’s why you couldn’t warn us?” Noah asks skeptically. “Because we would have demanded more than just a ‘I had to’? Nice. Really nice. You know Kurt had to fake food poisoning just to get out of those demented pictures.”

“I’m sorry. I told them to leave you alone about it,” Finn says. “I told them just to leave you alone.”

Noah resists the urge to snap back; it’s not like Finn’s made a habit of standing up to Carole in the past, so why would he think it would work this time?

“The entire experience was horrific, actually,” Kurt says. “Imagine watching all the nightmares you didn’t even know you had, all coming to life in front of you, and you have to smile the entire time, because only two people out of, what, two hundred? Have any idea that you shouldn’t be just so, so thrilled for the ‘happy couple’.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn says again, his voice dropping almost too low to hear. “I can’t— I can’t explain. Not so it makes any sense. I just had to. It was the only choice I had. I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know it was horrible.”

“You had to do it without warning us at all,” Noah says. “That’s what you’re going with? You couldn’t have said anything beforehand?”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Finn says. “I wanted to tell you. Fuck, I wanted to tell you so much, but I couldn’t. So… so just say whatever you want to say to me. Tell me how much you hate me. Just do it. Go on and do it.”

“That’s the problem, Finn.” Kurt closes his eyes. “It would be so much fucking _easier_ if we hated you. But no. We love you, and now we have to watch this.”

“And listen to it, and have it rubbed in our faces,” Noah continues. “I wish we did hate you. I think it would hurt less.”

“Tell me you hate me,” Finn asks again. “You have to. I know you do. Why wouldn’t you, after what I did? So just tell me. Tell me how much you hate me. Tell me that you hate me and you never want to see me again,” he says, pleading, his voice catching. “Just tell me that you hate me.”

“It would make it easier for you, too, wouldn’t it?” Kurt says softly. “But we don’t hate you. We’re angry and hurt, and I don’t know what happens next, but we don’t hate you.”

Finn slides forward out of the chair, his knees hitting the floor hard. His shoulders slump, and he puts one hand over his face, the other on the floor in front of him, palm up as if in supplication. “Please. _Please_. You should hate me. You should hate me for what I did to you. That’s what I deserve, that’s what you should tell me I deserve.”

“Should’s never had much of a place with us,” Noah says. “Like K said, it’d be easier if we did. But we don’t. If we hated you— we wouldn’t care.”

Finn’s shoulders start to shake, and his breathing turns into loud, gasping sobs as he leans forward, his forehead almost touching the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had to, I had to, I’m so sorry,” he says over and over, barely able to get the words out.

Noah doesn’t know what to do. There’s a big difference between the simple fact of not hating Finn and still being so angry and hurt that it physically causes pain sometimes. Finn keeps saying he had to, but he won’t tell them why, and Noah doesn’t know what that means, either.

Kurt leans forward, his hand on Noah’s leg. “Get up, Finn.”

Almost automatically, Finn pushes himself up and onto his feet, still crying hard enough that he sounds like he’s having trouble breathing in between the sobs. Kurt nudges Noah, and they slide to one side of the couch, leaving enough room that Finn can sit down.

“Sit down,” Kurt says to him. Finn sits, again seeming to follow Kurt’s instructions without being fully aware he’s doing it. “You need to stop crying now, Finn.”

Finn takes ones more gasping, shuddering breath, then his sobs stop abruptly, though his shoulders keep shaking and his hand stays over his face.

“Are you ever going to tell us why?” Noah asks, because never knowing – he’s not sure how he can handle that. Finn nods his head slowly.

Noah frowns a little and nods, then looks at Kurt and shrugs. “And what do you want, Finn?” Kurt asks.

“I only ever wanted you,” Finn says. “You two were all I ever wanted.”

Which doesn’t explain at all how it’s come to this. It’s certainly not anything they wanted. Kurt was right; somehow Rachel and Carole had everything they wanted come true, and the three of them were left cracked and broken.

“But we’re not all you have,” Kurt says firmly. “So what happens now, Finn?”

“I don’t know,” Finn answers. “I don’t know anymore, Kurt. I just don’t know.”

“Because the sad part—sad for us, I mean—is we’re still here,” Kurt says. “Still in love with you. Still your secret. So I suppose it’s your move.” Kurt sounds like his voice is about to break, and Noah puts his hand over Kurt’s, squeezing it.

“I don’t know how I got here,” Finn says miserably. “I don’t know how it all turned into this. This isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted _you_.”

Noah knows, sort of, how they ended up in the middle of shit, but what good does it do to rehash all the mistakes they’ve all three made? They can’t change a damn thing about the past, and it’s looking like they can’t change anything about the immediate future, either. “What are we, Finn?” Noah asks. “That part’s up to you.” It makes them, in the eyes of most of the world, party to Finn cheating, but really, it’s more like he’s cheating on them with Rachel, which no one but a very few people are going to understand. Even of the people that know, not all of them understand.

“I love you,” Finn says. “You’re the ones I love. The _only_ ones. And if you— if that’s it for us, if you don’t—” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t blame you, but I wouldn’t stop loving you, either, and I wouldn’t stop wanting you.”

“We’re still going to be angry for awhile,” Kurt says slowly. “We can’t just erase that.”

“I know,” Finn says. “I know.”

“And you have to tell us why at some point,” Kurt continues. “We can’t go on long-term without more explanation.”

“Soon,” Finn says. “As soon as I can, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.” Kurt lifts his hand, taking Noah’s with it, then turning them both palm up and reaching towards Finn, Kurt’s hand half-under Noah’s. After a moment’s hesitation, Finn places his hand in theirs. Noah and Kurt both curl their fingers around his hand, not quite squeezing it. “Okay?” Kurt repeats.

Finn nods. “Ok.”

 

Rachel has another callback that day, so Finn doesn’t even have to make up an excuse for why he’s leaving so early or going to be gone all day. Before he goes, he leans over and whispers bye to Rachel’s stomach – it’s still as flat as it’s ever been, but the twelve week ultrasound showed a happy looking little gummy bear, so she’ll probably have a belly before too much longer. She’s promised that next week they can start telling people, they’ll plan a special family dinner, and even though it’s not what Rachel would want, Finn will go to Kurt and Puck’s and tell them _first_. Maybe it will help make a little bit of sense of it, and she’s too far along now for Kurt to say anything, so she can’t argue that Finn shouldn’t tell him.

He spends the morning and most of the afternoon at their apartment, and he doesn’t even think to check his phone until he’s leaving their place at around four, before Hannah gets home. He has one missed call from Rachel, but no voicemail, which means she’s probably going to be back before dinner; she’d leave a message if she were eating out with her theatre people.

When he walks into the apartment, it looks empty, so he goes into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He’s about to sit down on the sofa when he hears Rachel’s voice, calling out softly from the bedroom.

“Finn? Are you home?”

“Yeah,” Finn answers. He sets his drink down on the table and walks into the bedroom. The room is dark, and Rachel’s in the bed with the cover’s pulled up, surrounded by wadded up tissues. “Rach? Are you ok?”

Rachel shakes her head, bringing one of the wadded up tissues up to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Finn,” she says, obviously crying. “They said— sometimes these things just happen, for no reason.”

Finn sits down on the edge of the bed. “What things happen? Rachel, what happened? Did something go wrong at the callback?”

“I— I never had a chance to— it was so _fast_ , one minute I felt fine, and the next.” Rachel blows her nose. “The baby, I lost the baby.”

Some irrational part of Finn’s brain wants to argue that she can’t have lost the baby, because she hasn’t even had it yet, how could she have left it some place, but the part of his brain that’s actually following along reminds him that’s not what she means. “You— what happened, Rach?” Finn asks. “Why didn’t you call— oh, shit, you _did_ call me. Oh, god, Rachel, what happened?”

“It was too late by then,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “I just— it hurt so bad, and there was so much blood. I told them we’d seen the ultrasound and the heartbeat and everything, but they just said that sometimes things go wrong.”

“Oh, god,” Finn says again, sliding up the bed to put his arms around her. “Rach, I’m so sorry. Did you go to your doctor? What did she say? Are you gonna be ok? Jesus, Rachel, I’m so sorry I didn’t answer the phone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rachel says, sniffing again. “I just have to rest. They gave me painkillers.” She wipes her eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Finn. I don’t know what happened. I swear, I did everything right!”

“I know you did, I know,” Finn says, hugging her tightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should have been here.” He feels his voice catching in his throat at the same time he realizes tears are running down his face and dripping into Rachel’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Rach.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Finn,” Rachel whispers. “Maybe it was better, even. They— it was over so fast, Finn. I should have tried to call sooner, but I thought it was just me overreacting to some pain.”

“I wish I had been there with you,” Finn says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Do you need anything? You said they gave you something for pain. Did you take it? Do you need some, I don’t know. Tea?”

“Do you think you could go get some take-out for dinner?” Rachel asks. “I just want to rest.”

“Of course. Anything you want,” Finn says, giving her one more gentle hug before releasing her and wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “I’ll let you rest for a little while and then I’ll call it in. You want the noodles this time?”

She nods. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to sit in here with you?”

“No, just wake me up when the food gets here.”

“Ok,” Finn says softly. He kisses her on her forehead. “I love you. Get some rest.”

Rachel smiles slightly and slides under the blankets, closing her eyes. Finn walks out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He makes into the kitchen before his hands start to shake, and he picks up his drink again, downing it in two swallows. His eyes wander around the kitchen until they land on the picture from the twelve week ultrasound, stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Even this far along, the baby’s features are still mostly indistinguishable to Finn in the photograph, a vaguely gummy bear–shaped smudge against a smudgier background.

Finn takes the photograph off the fridge and sets it on the counter while he pours himself another drink, which he tosses back, and then pours a third one. He takes the glass and the picture to the sofa, and he sets the picture on his knee. He drinks his third drink slowly while he looks at the picture, and that’s when he starts to cry again, silently. One more thing he loved, one more thing he wanted, and now that’s gone, too. One after another, all the things he loved are going, and Finn wonders how long until he has nothing left at all.

 

“I can’t go this year,” Finn says, with a grim finality. Kurt looks up and meets Noah’s eyes, frowning.

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks, and he’s going to scream if the answer is some variation on ‘I just can’t’.

“I can’t be gone for that long. I have… things I have to take care of,” Finn says. “It’s just not a good time for me this year.”

“Things that suddenly came up?” Noah asks dubiously. “It’s the same time we’ve been going for years. And it was fine last week.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t always have control over my whole schedule,” Finn says, his tone a little clipped. “Sometimes things come up and I have to deal with them. It’s not always fun, but that’s just how it is. I can’t go. I’ll still pay for everything I was paying for.”

“What is it?” Kurt asks. “Or is this another one of those things that you’re going to tell us at some mysterious point in the future?”

“Oh, nice,” Noah snorts. “Yeah, the money, that’s it,” his words overlapping with Kurt’s.

“Not everything’s about you,” Finn snaps. “I’m sorry. Nothing about this is how I wanted it to be, but I have responsibilities. I have shit I have to take care of, and sometimes that means I can’t go running off to the beach for a week, ok?”

Kurt clenches his fists and glares at the phone, even though Finn can’t see him. “Don’t lecture us on _responsibilities_ , Finn.”

“I’m not— look, I’m not happy about it, but this is just how it’s gotta be this time. I’m not happy about it either, but I have to stay.” Finn sighs. “I’ll see you when you get back, ok? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Pride’s as soon as we get back,” Noah points out.

“I don’t know about Pride yet,” Finn says. “I’ll have to see if sh— if things are settled down by then.”

“Are we going to see you before August tenth, then?” Kurt asks sharply. “Or are you skipping out on the season for these ‘things’, too?”

“Fuck, Kurt,” Finn sighs. “I’m doing the best I can. I can’t be everywhere. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m fucking it up, but this is the best I can do right now.”

“How quick you went from seeing us when we get back and making it up to us,” Noah says dryly, “to a nebulous best you can do.”

“What do you want from me, Puck?” Finn asks. “What do you expect me to do?”

Noah snorts. “Nothing you’re willing to do.” He stands up and shakes his head. “I’m done. Bye, Finn.” He walks out of the room and Kurt can hear him in the kitchen, getting something out of the refrigerator.

“Fuck,” Finn mutters. “I’m trying. I’m fucking trying. I can’t be everything. I can’t be everywhere.”

“He feels like we’re your lowest priority,” Kurt says quietly. “He hasn’t said it like that, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, Kurt,” Finn says. “I don’t know how to— I’m doing the best I can, but it’s not enough for anybody, because there’s just— I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.”

“You’re hurting us because we’re the safest ones,” Kurt bites out. “No one else is complaining. Everyone else is thrilled. Don’t feed me that shit, Finn.” He sighs. “Don’t worry. We’ll do what we have to do so no one suspects anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn says again, more quietly this time. “I don’t know the way out anymore, Kurt. I can’t see it. I can’t see it.”

Kurt sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t like the tone of Finn’s voice, but he doesn’t know what to do or say about it. He has just a few lines he won’t cross, and it’s hard not to cross them. It’s hard not to just tell Finn what to do; instead he sighs a second time. “I guess we’ll see you when we see you,” Kurt says softly. “And you have to be looking.”

“I love you. Both of you.”

“Love never is the problem.” Kurt shakes his head. “We love you, too.”

“Have a good trip down there, ok?” Finn says. “Tell Puck I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Kurt says. “Bye, Finn.” Kurt ends the call and stands up in time to accept a beer from Noah.

“I just couldn’t keep talking.”

“I know.” Kurt nods. “What’s the opposite of the beach?”

“Ice?” Noah says.

“Alaska. We should go to Alaska.” Kurt shakes his head. “Maybe one of those Alaskan cruises.”

Noah shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”

 

For the first time, being back in Chicago feels like a relief. No, it feels like a _reprieve_ from everything he’s done wrong, everything that’s gone wrong, everybody he’s failed and continues to fail in a thousand different ways. In Chicago, Finn doesn’t have to fall asleep next to Rachel, feeling guilty for not having been there when she needed him. His fridge in Chicago never had pictures stuck to it. There’s no balancing his time between Rachel and Kurt and Puck, no guilt when he makes the wrong choice, no question about which choice _is_ the wrong choice. All he has to do in Chicago is play football, and even though there’s no joy in that anymore, and hasn’t been since Wisconsin, at least he doesn’t have to look that guilt in the eyes every day. 

There’s no more FaceTime every night, or at all. He keeps trying to call, but most of his attempts go to voicemail. If Puck actually answers, he tells Finn, “We’re not doing this,” and hangs up. The one time Finn manages to get Kurt on the phone, Kurt says, “You put us last, just like I said. You skipped every single thing of any importance to us in the last three months. Do I really need to detail all of them? Let’s start with our birthdays and you can fill in the rest. I think our last conversation made it abundantly clear that we’re not important to you, so stop using us as your punching bag.”

Even if Kurt gave Finn time to argue before he hung up, Finn couldn’t argue. He has missed everything important, from their birthdays to Pensacola and Pride to the daily stuff they used to be able to count on him for. After Rachel lost the baby, Finn just disappeared from their lives out of a mix of guilt over everything he’s fucked up and obligation to Rachel, who needed him around constantly during her recovery. 

He thought at one point he might tell them about the baby and the miscarriage, so they would finally understand, but when he mentioned it to Rachel, she started to cry and accused him of wanting to shame her, saying it was too private and embarrassing for him to tell anyone. No matter how much pain Finn is in, or how sad he is, she’s the one who had to go through it, physically, all alone, while he was off with Puck and Kurt. In this, at least, she has the right to say who should and shouldn’t know. If she wants her privacy, no matter how much it hurts Finn to continue keeping the secret, he’ll keep it. God knows he’s already been selfish enough.

If he felt alone in Chicago before, it’s nothing compared to now. Victor was right about his contract; the Bears didn’t renew it, but the Arizona Cardinals were more than happy to snap him up. Guys like Cotton and Wright are good guys, but they’re not friends, really, so what little social activity he had with the team drops to nothing as preseason starts. His white-walled apartment starts to feel like one of those padded rooms from the old-fashioned mental institutions, and some days he feels like he belongs in one of those, sitting on the edge of his bed, drinking and chain-smoking—fuck his health, fuck his performance this season, fuck everything—and crying over the crumpled twelve week ultrasound photograph, which seems like evidence of one more person he failed, one more thing he fucked up.

More than anything, he just wants it to be over, but if pressed, he wouldn’t be able to specify what “it” is: football or _everything_. He has days where the only thing stopping him from just saying _fuck it_ entirely is that memory of Karofsky losing his shit in the ER waiting room all those years ago. Whatever else Finn has done to hurt people, that’s not something he can do to them. He can’t put Puck and Kurt in that waiting room, knowing he did something to himself to end it by choice. 

It doesn’t mean it’s not something he thinks about, but he’s not that selfish, not yet anyway. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t fantasize about taking a hard hit, something that’ll put him out entirely. A hard enough hit could do it, break his neck, put an end to all of it, and it wouldn’t leave anybody blaming themselves or feeling guilty. That fantasy gets him through practice, when he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. Collier, Franco, the new kid just drafted from Texas A&M, whose name isn’t really Brisket but is close enough that Finn can’t remember his real name and just keeps on calling him Brisket. Even with a wife, a cute little wife to prove how very _straight_ Finn is, there’s no love lost in that locker room. 

Heading into the first preseason game, Finn doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the rest of this season, let alone two more seasons. All he can do is hope for an out. Any out will do, but the more permanent, the better.

 

The first preseason game for the Bears is on a Friday, and Kurt and Noah go back and forth about what they should do. The problem is that as easy as it is to ignore Finn’s calls, it’s not easy at all; they still love him, and ridiculously, they still hope that things will work out eventually. 

Finn’s married now, though Rachel seems to talk to Finn just as little as they currently are talking to him. The rumors should, in theory, be over. There shouldn’t be any _need_ for them to pretend to just be his brothers – it’s not even exactly pretending now. 

The problem, Noah explains to Kurt, is that if they stop going, it’s going to look like exactly what it is. Kurt has to acknowledge that it’s true; if they stop going to games now, it’s like they are angry over his marriage. 

So they make their travel arrangements for the first two preseason games. Hannah will stay in New York with Syd for the first one and in Boston with Allison during the second one, and Kurt uses Finn’s card to pay for the flights and the hotels. They land in Chicago early on the Friday morning of the first game, check in, and head to Soldier Field an hour before kickoff.

There are still tickets waiting for them, though, and they get beers and hot dogs before taking their seats, the players’ warm-ups finished. Kurt sighs and takes a long drink of his beer. “I almost feel sick.”

“No good answer,” Noah agrees, taking a bite of his hot dog. 

The Dolphins come out on the field first, and Kurt spots a familiar figure. He nudges Noah. “There’s Sam.”

Noah laughs. “What’re the odds?”

“I suppose it was bound to happen eventually?” Kurt says, shrugging. The Bears come out next, Finn introduced as usual, and they still cheer and clap. “Maybe he’ll at least talk to us a little if we’re here.”

“Maybe.” Noah nods. When the players head for the bench, Kurt can see Finn scanning the seats. Kurt can tell the moment Finn sees them, because he freezes, his face a mixture of surprise and almost pitiful joy. One of the other players eventually elbows Finn, and he keeps moving then. 

Kurt sighs and grips Noah’s hand. “Each season is seventeen weeks. Does it sound better to say that it’s just thirty-four weeks, give or take?”

Noah chuckles humorlessly. “I don’t know anymore. I guess right now we should just settle for making it to tomorrow.”

 

Finn waits in the the tunnels for a while before the game, in the spot he’s come to think of as theirs, but he isn’t surprised when they don’t show up. It’s too much to expect from them, coming to the games after everything he’s done. He finishes gearing up, and when he passes through the stupid fucking inflatable bear that craps fireworks, he spares a hopeful glance up at their regular seats, not expecting them to be there.

They _are_ there, though. They don’t look happy to be there, but they’re there. He freezes in place, not able to tear his eyes away from their faces, until finally Cotton elbows him and he has to unfreeze and walk to the bench. Once he’s there, though, he keeps looking over at their seats, because despite everything, despite all the pain and the bullshit, they’re there at the game. They didn’t have to be, but they are, and that has to mean something. Finn needs so badly for it to mean something. 

Finn plays a solid game, despite being distracted and half checked-out for most of it. After the Bears win, Finn finds Sam on the field. They bump fists, and then Sam grabs him into a bro-hug, giving Finn a chance to say, “Finally balanced out that Wisconsin/LSU game, dude!”

“Maybe we could go for best two out of three,” Sam jokes. “How’s the first weekend in February look?”

“I’ll check my calendar,” Finn says. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Sam responds, clapping Finn on the shoulder before turning to someone else. 

Finn bumps a few more fists, but then he hurries to the locker room to change, trying not to hope too hard. They might not be waiting for him, but if they aren’t, he’ll start calling hotels all over Chicago until he finds a reservation for ‘Hummel’ if he has to. When he comes out through the player exit, though, there they are like always. Almost like always, at least; they look uncomfortable, like they’d probably rather be anywhere else.

“Hey,” Finn says quietly. 

“Hi,” they both respond, their eyes on his face. 

“I didn’t think you’d come. I thought— I didn’t think you’d be here,” Finn says.

“We weren’t sure we would, either,” Puck admits, shrugging a little, his hands shoved in his pockets. Finn remembers that stance, the hands-in-pockets, and it makes him feel even guiltier and sadder.

“I’m really glad you did,” Finn tells them. “Really glad.”

“We’re at a hotel about a mile from here,” Kurt says softly. “Why don’t we finish talking there?”

“You want a lift?” Finn asks. He’s not sure if they rented a car, took a taxi, rode the L. 

“Sure,” Puck answers, nodding a little. “Probably have to wait awhile on a taxi from here.”

“Ok,” Finn says, and he starts to slowly walk towards the lot. What he really wants to do is put his arms around them and pull them close, but he feels like that’s not a right he has anymore. Not now, after everything.

Puck and Kurt follow him, and Puck gives him directions to the hotel’s parking deck. That’s the only conversation they have on the drive, and all three of them are silent on the way up to the room. 

“Funny thing,” Puck says as he locks the door behind them. “If we weren’t here, it’d look like, well. Exactly what it is. Wouldn’t that be the kicker? Fuck up the entire charade at the end of it.”

Finn stands by the door and shrugs. “If you don’t want to come to the games, you don’t have to,” he says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “You don’t have to— if the charade gets fucked, it’s my charade. You don’t owe me or anybody else.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Puck says, turning and staring at him. “If we’re doing anything for anybody besides ourselves, it’s you. No one else. Don’t bring anyone outside this room into it.”

Finn nods slowly. “I want you here if you want to be here, but you don’t have to be here. I don’t care how it looks. I don’t care anymore. I just— I want you here because I want you here, and that’s it. Fuck everything else.”

“But we still do,” Kurt says quietly. “Because we don’t want you to get hurt, because, god help us, we still love you.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt,” Finn says. “That doesn’t matter. I’m done with worrying about that anymore. I’d rather get hurt than you keep on doing something you don’t want to do, because I love _you_.”

“Funny thing about love, isn’t it?” Puck sighs and drops onto the bed, then lies back. “You don’t want us to do something we don’t want to do, we don’t want you to do things you don’t want to do or suffer when you don’t have to.”

“And none of us get to choose for each other.” Kurt walks to the window and looks out of it. “What a mess,” he whispers.

“It’s a fuck shit stack, is what it is,” Finn says bitterly. “But I don’t need you to protect me. People’ll think what they think. I don’t know that it makes a difference at this point.”

Kurt turns, his arms crossed. “We missed you.”

“I missed you,” Finn says.

“S’not fair,” Puck says. “You can’t push us away like that.”

Finn sighs. “On the long, long list of things that aren’t fair, maybe you two not being stuck with my bullshit anymore isn’t the worst thing. I know what I’ve done to you. I know how much I’ve hurt you. I know you love me, but maybe— maybe you _shouldn’t_. Maybe you should try not loving me, because you’re not getting anything good from me. I don’t know how to give you anything good anymore.” He lets his head drop, chin against his chest. “How many more years? How much more of this shit could you really want to deal with?”

Puck laughs. “What the fuck do you think we were trying to do for the past two months, asshole? We tried that. It doesn’t work. We can’t get away from it, even in fucking Alaska.”

That makes Finn lift his head and narrow his eyes at Puck. “Alaska? When were you in Alaska?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Kurt answers. “The opposite of the beach.”

“Did you see any polar bears?”

“What?” Puck says. “No, we’re still here, aren’t we?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess no polar bears, then,” Finn says. 

“Whales,” Kurt says almost absently. “Moose.”

“That sounds nice,” Finn says. It slowly dawns on him that this is what they did instead of Pensacola. They went all the way to Alaska to get away from him; he feels a little bit like a polar bear now, like something dangerous that they probably don’t need to encounter. 

“Well, it was different,” Kurt says, walking away from the window and sitting down on the bed. “But like Noah said, it doesn’t work that way. You can’t make us quit loving you.”

“So what now?” Finn asks. “How do we do this? It’s two more seasons, so how do we do it?”

“Thirty-four weeks!” Kurt says suddenly, giggling like it’s funny, and Puck snorts. 

“Hardly the biggest problem at this point,” Puck says.

“What’s the biggest problem?” 

Puck snorts again. “Oh, I don’t know, the fact that you’re _married_ to Rachel fucking Berry?”

Finn grimaces, but he doesn’t argue. He just nods. “Yeah,” he says. 

“So we don’t know either,” Kurt says, looking like he’s struggling not to say something. His nails are digging into his palms. 

“A day at a time,” Puck says. 

“I love you,” Finn says. “I want you. Nothing’s good without you.” He shakes his head. “I’ve fucked everything up so much, but you two are all I ever really wanted.”

Kurt shakes his head once, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Then I guess we just wait for you to come home.”

Finn feels the tears running down his face before he realizes he’s crying. “I want to,” he says. “I want to come home, but I can’t yet. I want it so bad, but I can’t.”

Neither of them say anything for a long time, and then Puck sits up, sighing heavily. “And that’s why we keep waiting.”

“Come here,” Kurt whispers. Finn crosses the room to the bed, standing in front of Kurt. Kurt takes Finn’s hand, and Puck grabs the other one, the two of them pulling Finn towards them. He sits between them on the bed, not letting go of their hands. They both lean against him, their heads on his shoulders, and he can hear Kurt taking a long deep breath. Puck moves his head back and forth in short movements, the curls on the top of his head brushing against Finn’s neck. 

“I love you both so much,” Finn says. His eyes are still wet; he feels like he could keep crying for days and it wouldn’t be enough at this point, wouldn’t make a difference. “I just love you. I love you so much.”

“We love you too,” Puck whispers. “We’re here.”

Finn knows they’re there. He can feel them and smell them. _He_ doesn’t feel entirely there, though. He doesn’t really feel anywhere anymore. “I know,” he says. He leans his head on top of Puck’s and he squeezes Kurt’s hand. “I know you’re here.”

Sitting there between them, all Finn can think about is how much he hurts them, how long he’s made them wait, how much longer they’re willing to wait and how much he could still hurt them in the meantime. And they love him anyway. He closes his eyes and lets himself relax against them, and he wishes he were free.


	8. Broken Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day he takes the hit. [August 18, 2018]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: homophobic language, suicidal thoughts, sports-related violence, medical malpractice**

Today is the day he takes the hit. Finn knows this with the same degree of certainty that he knows his name or the words to his favorite song. Today he will walk onto the field and he may or may not walk off of it, and the knowledge brings a greater feeling of peace than it has any right to. He’s known it was coming. It was only a matter of time. Now he can stop waiting for it.

He doesn’t know today’s the day when he meets Puck and Kurt in one of the tunnels to sneak a minute before the game, though if he had known, he’s not sure he would have told them. The rest of the team knows Finn likes fifteen minutes or so of alone time to wander through the tunnels and clear his head; he made sure that habit from college ball was one he established right away with the Bears. It makes it so much easier to get kisses before the game, even when he knows Kurt and Puck are mad at him. Even when they have every right to be mad, they always give him his kisses anyway.

They’ve just left, heading back to their seats to watch the game, and Finn is walking back in the direction of the locker room when the Pats find him. McCarthy and Abner, and McCarthy looks like he can’t decide whether to be amused or disgusted. 

“Saw your pretty boys,” McCarthy says, face twisting into something like a smile. “So sweet.”

“You don’t know what you saw,” Finn counters. He keeps his voice neutral, focusing on getting back to the locker room, but it’s already starting to hit him. This is the day.

“I know I saw something I never want to see at a football game. Player or fan.” McCarthy shakes his head, his face reverting to disgusted. Abner nods silently.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go lurking around the tunnels,” Finn says. “Stay in your nice safe locker room. No queers in there, right?” He pauses, then forces himself to smile. “Probably.”

He knows they expected him to deny it, to argue, but instead, Finn just put a name to it. Both Abner and McCarthy realize it, too. Finn can see it in their faces. He’s finally done it, and come as close to owning it as he’s ever going to have to in the NFL. Today is the day he takes the hit. That’s what he sees in their eyes. He’ll take the hit and if he’s lucky, very lucky, he goes down and he doesn’t come back up.

The two of them turn around and start to walk away, heads shaking, before Abner stops and looks at Finn. “You’re a disgusting fag.”

Finn shrugs. It’s so exaggerated and theatrical a shrug that he could almost laugh at himself. Too many years with Kurt and Puck. “Then do something about it,” he says dismissively, and turns his back on them, walking back to the locker room. 

At the half, the Bears are up, and Cotton, one of the second-string linebackers, makes a point to come over to Finn. “Keep playing like that all season, Bluebird, and we’re going to all need to get fitted for some new jewelry,” he says quietly, grinning a little.

Finn returns the smile, though he doubts it reaches his eyes. “I’ll keep playing as hard as I can,” he promises. 

Cotton pounds him on the shoulder pad and heads back to his locker with another grin, and no one else really says anything to Finn during the entire time they’re in the locker room at halftime. That’s fine by Finn. He doesn’t want to talk. It seems like a moment for quietly reflecting. If he prayed, it would probably be a good time for that, but he doesn’t. If Finn still prayed, he’d have one prayer: set me free.

When halftime is over, Finn jogs onto the field with the rest of the offense after special teams receives the ball. They huddle quickly, and at the end, Finn says, “Thank you for a great first half.”

Across the line of scrimmage, Abner lifts his head and makes eye contact with Finn, holding it before he looks at Braskin, the Bears’ rookie right guard. There it is; Finn knows the dice have been thrown and now it’s time to watch them land. 

Everyone lines up, the center grabs the ball, and Finn takes the snap, dropping back into the pocket. The pocket isn’t really there, though; Braskin isn’t in place, and Abner is barreling through the spot where Braskin should be. Finn finds his receiver and lets the ball fly towards him, fifteen yards downfield, but Finn doesn’t see if the pass is complete. Instead, he closes his eyes, and starts to spread his arms likes wings, and as Abner’s body collides with his, he can hear Kurt’s scream echoing across the field. 

 

Kurt starts to scream before the Pats’ back even hits Finn. That’s what Noah knows he’s going to remember, the way Kurt starts to scream, and then everything is like dominoes. Kurt screams, Finn takes the hit, Finn hits the artificial turf, and Noah realizes Finn isn’t going to spring back up. The pass is complete and half of the Bears look confused as people start to move. 

Noah and Kurt are two of the people moving, hopping over the wall between their section of seats and the field, and no one stops them. Maybe they even have managed to look official, Noah thinks wildly, but it’s more likely that in the moment, no one cares. He wraps his hand around Kurt’s wrist and they push through the growing crowd to get to Finn. 

He’s on the ground, eyes closed and passed out, and his left arm is wrong. Noah doesn’t know any other way to describe it except wrong, and it is. The Bears medical people are stabilizing Finn’s neck, because that’s what they’re supposed to do, and Noah hears someone saying something about an ambulance, and Boston. 

Boston, where Hannah’s with Allison anyway, and Boston, where there are world-class doctors. Noah can feel Kurt shaking next to him, and he knows he’s probably shaking too. 

“Noah,” Kurt says. “Oh god, Noah, look at him.”

“I know. I know.” Noah can hear his voice tremble a little. “We’re going with him. Okay? We’re going with him.”

The crowd around Finn starts to clear out, the Patriots staff waving their players to the sideline a few moments before the Bears do the same. It’s coaching staff and the medical people from the Bears left, along with Noah and Kurt, and Noah knows any moment now they’re going to realize that Noah and Kurt aren’t supposed to be there. 

The ambulance drives onto the field first, though, and when they load Finn in, Noah grabs Kurt’s hand again and pulls them into the ambulance before anyone can object. Finn’s still out, his helmet off now and pads and jersey cut away from him. He groans, still unconscious, and Noah realizes that the EMTs are giving him some kind of pain medication. 

“What— why is he not waking up?” Kurt asks the EMT closest to them. 

“It’s probably a combination of a hard hit and the pain,” the EMT says, sounding more kind that Noah realizes he was expecting. 

“Oh.” Kurt leans on Noah, still shaking, and Noah feels like the trip into Boston takes forever. When they arrive, though, he asks the EMT which hospital they’re at and how long it took, and he’s surprised by the answer. 

“About thirty-five minutes. We don’t speed as much as you see on television,” the EMT admits. “We’re at Massachusetts General.”

When they first arrive, everything goes as smoothly as it could. No one stops Noah and Kurt from following Finn into the emergency room, where doctors and nurses come in to assess him, pushing them against a wall, but still in the room. Time passes, and Noah can hear Finn start to mumble. The words aren’t clear at first, but after a few repetitions of the words, Noah understands that Finn is saying, “Kurt’s screaming.”

“Finn?” Kurt says quietly, and two of the medical people shift as Finn repeats it again, leaving a gap near the bed. Noah pushes Kurt forward gently, and they squeeze next to the bed for a moment. Finn is glassy-eyed and seems to have a hard time focusing on Kurt, but finally he registers Kurt’s presence and his eyebrows scrunch together.

“You ok?” Finn asks, sounding completely out of it. “You screamed. You were screaming.”

“I’m fine, Finn,” Kurt manages. “I’m fine. Are you— you aren’t hurting, are you?”

“Love you guys,” Finn mumbles, his volume fading. “Love you guys so much.”

“Love you too,” Kurt whispers, and Noah squeezes Finn’s right hand before one of the doctors waves them back against the wall. 

Noah loses track of time again as they examine and prod Finn, and then a nurse walks over to them. “We’re going to send him up to get some X-rays and an MRI, just to make sure we have all the information. They’ll put him in a private room but still down here when he gets back, to wait for the orthopedist on call. He seems to have sustained a very light concussion, but the primary cause of his loss of consciousness was pain, and now the pain medication, of course.”

Noah and Kurt both nod. “It’s his shoulder, right?” Noah asks. 

“I don’t want to give you any false impressions, and the diagnosis isn’t set,” the nurse says, but she nods. “Left shoulder.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says softly. “Where should we wait?”

“You’re… family?”

“We’re his brothers,” Kurt says firmly, and Noah pauses to be thankful for doctor-patient confidentiality. They weren’t acting like brothers when Finn was almost awake, and they still aren’t, really.

“I’ll take you to a smaller waiting area. It’ll probably be about forty-five minutes before he’s back and settled,” the nurse says as they wheel the bed Finn’s on out of the room. She leads them through the halls to a small curtained-off area with no other occupants, and Noah and Kurt sit on the bench, squeezed together. 

“Oh, god,” Kurt says after a minute. “Oh, god, baby, it finally happened. We knew, that’s why we tried so hard, but it still happened.”

Noah turns sideways and shifts, pulling Kurt against his chest and wrapping his arm across Kurt’s chest. “I know, blue eyes. I know.” It’s not completely true; Noah knows there is always a chance of injury in football. It is true, though, that Noah saw the guy Finn calls Brisket step to one side, while the Pats guy went through. In typical fashion, Finn completed the pass and earned the Bears a first down before he took the late hit. Noah knows where Brisket was drafted from, knows that some teams are more likely to try to injure than others, and the pieces add up in Noah’s head to something closer to deliberate than accidental. “He’ll be okay. They’ll take care of him. It’s probably a good hospital, right? And no one kicked us out.”

“He looked so small,” Kurt says brokenly. “He’s so big, and he looked so small lying there, Noah. What if he needs surgery?”

“They’ll make sure he’s not in pain,” Noah answers. “They’ll make sure he’s okay.” Noah’s not even sure if he believes what he’s saying, but he says it anyway, and when the same nurse appears ten minutes after she left, with two bottles of water, Noah takes a Xanax. 

They sit in the waiting area for more than forty-five minutes. When it’s been an hour, Noah starts to wonder if there was a delay with the X-rays or the MRI. When another thirty minutes pass, Noah decides it’s time for them to go find Finn, regardless of what the nurse said. 

None of the staff they pass look familiar, and Noah begins to suspect there’s been a shift change, which at least would explain why the helpful nurse didn’t come back to get them. They walk up to the main desk, hand in hand, and Noah squeezes Kurt’s hand as he speaks. 

“Hi, we were waiting down there,” Noah says, gesturing down the correct hall, “for our brother to get back from X-ray, but no one ever came to get us.”

“And who is your brother?” the man asks. 

“Finn. Finn Hudson,” Noah says, trying to keep his voice down. 

“Oh.” The man taps on a few things and then looks up, face pulled sympathetically. “The Bears organization and Mrs. Hudson have asked not to allow any visitors.”

“We’re not visitors,” Noah says slowly. “We’re family. And the Bears aren’t— they can’t restrict his visitors.”

“The Bears organization was simply passing on Mrs. Hudson’s wishes. I’m sure she may feel differently tomorrow.”

Kurt looks like he’s about to reach across the counter and scratch the man, so Noah tugs him backwards. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Noah whispers. “We’ll call Carole and get it straightened out. She probably didn’t realize they’d include us under no visitors.”

Before they’re even back in the waiting area, Kurt has his phone out, on speaker, dialing the house phone at Burt and Carole’s.

“Hey, Kurt,” Burt says, answering the phone. “Don’t tell me the score, alright? I DVR’d the game and I’m watching it later.”

“Why did you tell them not to let us in?” Kurt demands. “Why did Carole do that?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up. What are you talking about, kid? What do you think Carole did?”

“They won’t let us back in! They took him upstairs for X-rays and they won’t let us find him.”

“Kurt, _who_? What happened? Did Finn get injured during the game?” Burt asks. “What’s going on?”

“ _Yes_. We’re at—” Kurt stops and looks at Noah. 

“Massachusetts General,” Noah supplies. “It’s pretty bad, Burt.”

“And they’re not letting you up to see him? What’d he hurt? Kurt, is it his neck?”

“It’s his shoulder,” Noah says, when Kurt doesn’t immediately answer. “Knocked him out when he took the hit, and he was in a lot of pain, so he wasn’t lucid. We were waiting until he came back from the X-rays and MRI, but now they’re saying Mrs. Hudson doesn’t want anyone to see him.”

“And you think Carole— boys, Carole and Audrey have been at a Girl Scout thing all afternoon. As far as I know, she doesn’t know anything about this,” Burt says. “Kurt… Mrs. Hudson. They’re talking about Rachel. Remember?”

“What?” Kurt sounds confused. “She’s not. She’s still Berry. And she wouldn’t tell them not to let us in.”

“She’s his wife. She’s the only one’s got the authority to keep you out,” Burt points out. “Maybe there’s something else they aren’t telling you. Massachusetts General, you said? I’m hanging up now, and I’m calling Carole, and I’ll have her talk to somebody at the hospital and get some information. We’ll get this all straightened out. You two should call Rachel and see what’s going on.”

“Okay, Dad,” Kurt says, ending the call and looking at Noah. “Why? Why would Rachel tell them to keep us out?”

“I don’t know, and if it’s her, I don’t care,” Noah says. “Let’s go figure out where he is.”

 

When Syd gets up on Saturday morning in her new apartment, her phone reminds her that the Bears have a game, so she puts on her Bears Elevens shirt. One, Finn's her best friend; two, wearing it has helped her pick up a girl or two over the past two years. She can't watch the game this week, because she has too many errands to run, including the trip to Ikea that she's been putting off for a few weeks now. 

Syd goes to eat lunch as soon as she arrives at Ikea, and as she's sitting down, someone mentions to her the great first half that the team is having. Syd grins and checks the score, and sure enough, the Bears are really leading the Pats as the game breaks for halftime. She forgets to check the score again until after she's paid for her furniture and delivery service, and when she does, all she sees is that the Bears are still winning. 

"Terrible thing," a man says to her as she gets on the train after taking Ikea's shuttle to the stop. Syd frowns at him, and he elaborates. "That injury. Refs ruled it a late hit, but it looked like Abner was gunning for him." He doesn't offer any more detail, and Syd frowns, pulling out her phone. 

Reception isn't great on the train, so she still isn't sure who got injured when she gets off the train back in Manhattan. This time, it's a woman at the traffic light, also wearing a Bears shirt. "I can't believe what they did to Bluebird."

Syd can feel her heart sink and she walks into the nearest restaurant, ordering a pop and sitting down at a table to look at her phone. The details start to filter in, too clearly, and Syd looks at the time. The Bears probably flew Rachel out right away, thinking she could make decisions if Finn's too out of it, but Syd has the paperwork that says she can't, and no one else knows she has it, she's guessing, since neither Noah nor Kurt has called her. 

"Shit!" she exclaims, running back out of the restaurant and down the street. She has to get the paperwork, fax it in, and still get to Boston herself, because she doesn't trust the hospital to accept a faxed version of paperwork, not for a professional football player. 

Syd packs a single carry-on bag, with two extra shirts and an extra pair of underwear, her laptop, and the paperwork. She can probably fax the paperwork from the airport, or maybe she'll find a place while she's still looking for a taxi. She doesn't, though, and while she's trying to find the quickest flight to Boston, she also faxes a copy of the paperwork to Massachusetts General and follows it up with a telephone call. 

The response she gets isn't reassuring, and the hour in the air just makes her more and more upset. She has no clue who's with Finn or what they're assuming at the hospital, and from 30,000 feet in the air, she can't really do anything about it. When she lands, she elbows her way out of the airport and frowns when a taxi doesn't immediately appear. 

"Where are you headed?" the man beside her asks.

"Massachusetts General. My best friend's there."

"It's a good hospital," the man says, clearly trying to be reassuring. "I just read that's where they took that Bears player, Hudson, today."

Syd shakes her head and heads towards the approaching taxi. "That's what I just said. My best friend's there."

 

Kurt and Noah try to look like they know what they’re doing as they go up and down the hallways. They don’t look like hospital staff, but the story of going back to find their relative keeps them out of trouble at least twice before they round a corner and spot a guy in Bears attire standing outside a room. 

“There we go,” Noah whispers, and they walk past the guy without making eye contact, turning down the next hallway and standing against the wall. They watch a doctor walk past, along with one of the residents or whatever, and Kurt looks around the corner and then nods. 

“They went in that room. It has to be Finn’s.” Kurt exhales. “I don’t understand.” Kurt falls silent and they can hear the murmur of people talking through the wall, but no voice that they can distinguish at first. It’s a few minutes before they hear anything else, and Noah winces as the shouting starts.

“No. Where is Kurt? Kurt! Puck! No, don’t sign that! Don’t sign that!” Finn sounds like he’s drunk, which makes sense, considering they were pumping him full of pain medication. There’s a clatter of a tray or table being knocked to the floor, and more murmurs from the other people in the room. “No! You get Kurt! You hear me? You go get Kurt now! Don’t sign anything! No, don’t you— Kurt!” There’s the sound of someone being punched, and possibly falling, judging by the screech of furniture sliding on the floor, and then Finn yells again. “ _Fuck!_ ”

They both look around the corner, figuring the Bears guy is preoccupied, and he’s not even outside the room anymore. The door opens and a nurse scurries out, though, looking upset, and Noah wonders who exactly got punched. He’s hoping it was the Bears guy, just because the hospital staff probably didn’t deserve it. Finn’s still shouting, but Noah can’t make out words, and now he can hear the overwhelming familiar and overly dramatic sound of Rachel Berry crying.

“Finn!” She sobs before continuing. “Finn, calm down! You’ll hurt yourself!” Every sentence is punctuated with additional crying, and Noah rolls his eyes at Kurt, who nods. 

Finn bellows “Kurt!” again, followed by a more frantic, “No! No!” There’s utter silence after that, and Noah exchanges an uneasy look with Kurt. The door to the room opens again, and they duck behind their corner. 

“Regardless of your medical license, you don’t have privileges here,” one guy is saying. “I really cannot allow you to proceed in the same manner. If there’s even a hint of a similar incident, we’ll have to ask you to leave the property.”

The other guy blusters, making some kind of argument about Finn being under his care, but the two of them move out of earshot quickly, and Noah slides down the wall, pulling Kurt with him to sit there. Now they look like grieving relatives, which should keep hospital personnel off them for a little while. 

“It would help if Rachel didn’t have her phone off,” Kurt grumbles.

“It would help if the hospital didn’t have to listen to her.”

“Yes.” Kurt sighs. “That too. Shit. I can’t believe she would listen to that and still not care.”

“No one is as important to Rachel Berry as Rachel Berry, regardless of what anyone else might need or want.” Noah snorts. “Maybe she’ll leave the room and we can grab her then.”

They wait about ten minutes before they hear the door open, and by the time they scramble to their feet and look around the corner, Rachel’s turning off the hall in the opposite direction. There’s no one in front of Finn’s door, though, and they walk quickly to the room, going inside and pulling the curtain around the bed so no one can see them. 

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, looking around the room. “It looks like there really was a fight in here.”

“Yeah.” Noah sighs at the overturned tray table and askew chair. “Well, it’s her own fault.” They move closer to Finn, who is clearly on some kind of heavy drugs. “Fuck.”

“Oh, darling.” Kurt picks up Finn’s right hand in both of his. “Oh, god, baby.”

“I know.” Noah closes his eyes briefly and rests his hand on Finn’s right shoulder. “They didn’t have to do this.”

“What did he not want her to sign?” Kurt asks, starting to look around the room. “What is it that they wanted her to sign?” There are so many papers on the floor that Noah doesn’t even try to look at them, just scoops them up, straightens them, and, when he hears the door squeak, shoves them down his shirt. 

The curtain gets shoved to the side, and the guy in the Bears shirt says, “What are you two doing in here? You aren’t allowed in here.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him. “A fact which I’m sure was an oversight.” Noah knows Kurt doesn’t think that at all, but if they can convince Bears guy that Rachel’s just crazy, maybe he can talk to her or something.

“Out,” the Bears guy says, pointing at the door. “You’re not needed or wanted in here.”

“Yeah? Then how come _Finn_ was asking for us?” Noah retorts. He would cross his arms over his chest, but he realizes just in time that would make all the paper crinkle loudly.

“He’s shot full of enough morphine to take down a bull,” the Bears guy sneers. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Nobody else needs to know what he’s saying either, understand me? The two of you have caused enough trouble for this organization already.”

“Oh, I understand _perfectly_ what you’re saying,” Noah says, smirking right back at him. For all the sites that spread rumors and tear Finn down, there are the ones that are sympathetic – and there are people that love a good conspiracy theory, that the NFL or the Bears are keeping Finn down. And Noah knows exactly which ones to start posting to. He looks back at Kurt, who isn’t speaking, but he is gripping the rail at the foot of Finn’s bed tightly, and Noah realizes this is going to end even worse than he thought.

“I hope the two of you are happy,” the Bears guy snarls. “You did this to him. With those clubs and the magazines and all the rumors, you painted a big bullseye on him.” He points at Kurt. “You did this. Are you happy?”

Kurt’s chin goes up, and Noah knows the Bears guy won’t notice the slight trembling. “We didn’t do this. Your NFL and your Bears and the Patriots and your redneck Aggie rookie did this to him.”

“Out!” The Bears guy points at the door, then back at Kurt, his finger perilously close to Kurt’s face. “You get out of here before somebody snaps a picture of Hudson’s _brothers_ and you make it even worse on him.”

Noah takes a step forward, glaring. “You get your finger out of his face _right now_ , asswipe,” he says, voice hard. “You don’t work for the hospital and I know Finn never would have given the Bears any fucking authority over who gets to come in this room. So maybe _you_ should get out.” He slowly reaches into his pocket. “Or I guess I could snap a picture. Of you. Bullying Hudson’s brothers because you’re a homophobe.”

The Bears guy’s fist clenches, and he moves his arm like he can’t quite decide if he’s going to bring his fist up or not. Before he actually takes a swing at them, which _would_ result in Noah calling the cops, Syd appears in the doorway. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, waving some kind of papers. “I talked to the right people, finally.” She hands the papers to Kurt, who looks startled. “Kurt, do you want this guy in here?”

“What?” Kurt shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

Syd turns to the Bears guy. “There. He has power of attorney and a bunch of legal things that your brain probably can’t comprehend, so if he says scram, you need to leave.”

“That’s bullshit. Hudson’s wife is here!” the Bears guy blusters. “She’s got the decision making power.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that. That’s exactly what Finn _didn’t_ want to happen, hence the paperwork Kurt’s holding.” Syd looks like she’s having way too much fun. “I’m Syd Beckett, by the way. I’m Mr. Hudson’s personal attorney, as well as—” She turns to Noah. “Give me a dollar, Noah.”

“Huh?” Noah shrugs and pulls a dollar out of his wallet anyway, handing it to Syd.

“Thanks. As well as the Hummels. And since Mr. Hudson has granted Mr. Hummel decision making power, and Mr. Hummel doesn’t want you here, you need to leave.”

“We’ll just see about that,” the Bears guy says, pointing at Syd, but he does turn and leave the room. 

“We are really glad to see you, Syd,” Noah admits as the Bears guy disappears, and he closes the door before taking the papers out of his shirt. “You want to decipher some more legal stuff?” he jokes, pulling Kurt and Syd both into a hug. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” Syd says, taking the papers without comment. “How is he? I didn’t hear until a couple of hours after it happened, but I got here as fast as I could.”

“Overmedicated,” Kurt says quietly. “It’s his shoulder, but he was out of it earlier, and then they gave him something else.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Syd says with a sigh, walking over to the bed and patting Finn’s right arm. “Hudson, if you thought I needed a weekend in Boston, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Did we kick out Rachel?” Kurt asks. 

“I may have suggested that they needed to check with you before letting her back in, because of her propensity for hysterics,” Syd admits, grinning just a little. 

“I might forget to answer their questions for a few minutes. Payback, Rachel Berry. I think she forgot who she was dealing with.” Kurt looks up and smirks at Syd and Noah. “I suppose I should call Dad back now.”

“Probably,” Noah agrees. “You want me to do it?”

“No, it’s fine,” Kurt says, setting his phone on the tray table that Syd righted. “Warning, Syd, you’re about to be on speaker.”

“I’m a lawyer. I like to hear myself talk.”

Noah snorts back a laugh as Kurt places the call, and they listen to it ring a few times, enough that Noah wonders if Burt’s driving or something, before Burt answers.

“We’re at the airport,” Burt says. “About to get on a plane. Should be landing around nine, so we’ll be at the hospital by nine-thirty at the latest. You boys find him?”

“We did,” Kurt answers. “We snuck in and almost got hit by a guy from the Bears, but then Syd showed up and saved the day.”

“All I did was bring legal papers,” Syd points out, not looking up from the papers that had been on the floor. “Hi, Mr. Hummel.”

“Hey, Syd,” Burt says. “Where is Rachel? What is she doing that she’s letting all of this happen?”

“Haven’t actually seen her,” Kurt admits. “But since she kicked us out, she can wait until she comes back to be let in. She left, what?”

“Half an hour ago?” Noah guesses. “Maybe she went to eat dinner.”

“Exceptional,” Kurt mutters, probably not loud enough for Burt to hear.

“What the— okay, we’ve gotta board now,” Burt says, interrupting himself. “We’ll get this all straightened out when we get up there. Tell Finn we love him. We love you, too, boys.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Kurt says, then ends the call and looks at Syd. “What do those say?”

“Half of them are consent for surgery forms. A couple are about privacy policies, standard shit.” Syd sighs and goes to check the door, then sits back down. “Some of them are for a psych eval.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt says. “Is that standard?”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Noah says. “Is it some kind of Bears thing?”

“No,” Syd admits. “It’s— apparently he said some things.”

“What kind of things? He was out of it, Syd,” Noah points out. “I don’t think he could have told them what state he was in.”

Syd sighs and presses her lips together before she starts to read the paper quietly. “Patient made comments such as ‘why didn’t you let me go?’ and ‘I thought that would kill me, I should be dead’. Patient further questioned the presence of his wife. Other statements of concern included ‘I can’t do this anymore, please don’t make me do this anymore’.”

“Fuck.”

“I saw it,” Kurt says, his voice shaky. “He knew. He didn’t try to get out of the way. Everyone talks about how good he is in the pocket, how he doesn’t get sacked. He took the hit.”

“That’s why you started screaming before the guy hit,” Noah says softly, understanding.

“He knew,” Kurt repeats sadly. “He just let that Pats guy hit him.” Kurt’s hands start to shake a little. “Oh god. No more, Syd.”

“Okay,” Syd agrees, and the paper she was reading from gets folded and put in her bag, not with the other forms. The room falls silent, no one even walking past, and Noah is silently thankful for that small respite. Kurt’s still shaking and after a few more minutes, Noah tugs him up. 

“There’s room in the bed, just stay on his right side,” Noah says. 

“Are you okay?”

“Better living through chemistry, blue eyes. Go on, just lie down. You’ll wake up when he does.”

Kurt nods and curls up on his side, pressed against Finn’s body, and his breathing evens out before ten minutes pass. Another five minutes goes by, Noah staring at Kurt and Finn in the bed and Syd looking up something on her laptop, before there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s just me,” Rachel’s voice calls through the door. “Kurt? Syd? Noah?”

Noah looks at Syd and raises his eyebrows, nodding towards the door, and Syd sighs, setting aside her laptop and standing. Noah does the same and they draw the curtain again before opening the door and stepping into the hall. 

“Rachel,” Noah says.

“Noah,” Rachel says, her tone slightly clipped. “Syd. Would you please explain to me _now_ why it is that Kurt has power of attorney over _my husband_?”

“Because Finn signed the paperwork making it that way,” Noah says, pulling on his best dumb-as-dirt look, which still comes in handy on occasion.

“But it had to be from before the wedding. Surely Finn wouldn’t need a power of attorney when he has a wife who can make decisions in the event of an emergency,” Rachel insists. She sounds like she spent the last two hours practicing this speech. “I can understand him having concerns prior to our wedding, so perhaps he forgot to remind you that he had revoked that power of attorney.”

“Actually, Kurt and Noah didn’t know about it until I showed up here today,” Syd says, barely hiding a smile. “He asked me to help him with it as soon as you two got back from the honeymoon, so I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Rachel says. “Where is Kurt? Maybe he can better explain that this is a misunderstanding. Of course, I would never try to keep either of you out of Finn’s room!”

“Someone did in your name,” Noah says. “And when Finn was screaming for us, you didn’t exactly ask for anyone to find us. Why is that, exactly? Your _husband_ was screaming and confused, and you couldn’t ask for someone to check on where we were? Or call us?”

“He was confused! He was irrational. They explained it to me, it was the pain medication,” Rachel says. “He reacted poorly to the type of pain medication they gave him. He was just confused, and I was too focused on him to worry about where anyone else was!”

“Seems like if he was confused, you’d still want to help him calm down.” Noah shrugs. “But what do I know? I’m just going on what I’d do if K were hurt.”

“Dr. Bowers thought it was best if we focused on trying to keep him calm, instead of indulging his panic,” Rachel says, in the tone of someone parroting what they’ve been told. “He needed to reorient himself.” She tries to peer through the small window in the door into the room. “Where is Kurt?”

“Resting,” Syd says blandly, winking at Noah while Rachel isn’t looking at them. 

“And if Dr. Bowers is the Bears doctor guy, he’s full of shit. The one that works here wasn’t happy with him.”

“He’s a respected professional, Noah!”

“Yeah, I’m going to go with the person actually on staff or whatever.” Noah shrugs. “I guess you can come in, if you don’t screech. Which means you pretty much can’t say anything.”

“Noah!” Rachel protests.

“Like that, you can’t be that loud.” Noah shrugs again and heads back into the room, sitting in the chair closest to the head of the bed.

Rachel seems to slowly take in the scene, Finn still out cold and Kurt pressed against Finn’s side, with his arm resting on Finn’s uninjured shoulder and one of his legs over Finn’s leg. 

“Noah,” Rachel says, her voice suddenly cold. “Why is Kurt in the bed with Finn?”

“He’s resting,” Noah answers, pulling out the dumb look for a second time. “Since we actually witnessed everything, he was a little more upset than you are.”

“ _That_ does not look like resting,” Rachel says, her voice rising. “That looks like… like…”

“Like what?” Noah parrots, still playing dumb. 

“Okay, that wasn’t quiet,” Syd says. “Both of you, back out of here.”

“Lovers,” Rachel blurts.

“Rachel,” Noah says, trying to look confused. “Why would my husband and your husband look like that? I think your dads might be upset with your assumptions here.”

Rachel makes a squawk of protest as Syd ushers her out of the room. “I wasn’t— They just—”

“You just accused Kurt of cheating on Noah in front of Noah,” Syd says, and Noah thinks for a moment he really wouldn’t want to go against her in court or whatever. “I’m sure you’re upset, Rachel, but let’s all sit out here for a bit.”

 

Kurt starts to wake up when he hears soft crying near him, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize it’s Finn, not fully awake but crying anyway. “Finn? Darling?” Kurt says softly. 

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this anymore,” Finn mumbles, still crying and still not seemingly aware of his surroundings. 

Kurt takes a shaky breath, not really prepared to hear what Syd read from the paper in Finn’s own voice. “Finn,” he manages. “It’s Kurt.” Kurt puts his hand gently on Finn’s head. “It’s just me, darling.”

Finn’s eyes open and he blinks at Kurt a few times, eyes unfocused and eyelids drooping. “Don’t let her sign stuff,” he says. 

“We won’t,” Kurt promises. “Syd brought your papers. We’ll take care of everything, darling.” Kurt presses his lips together, trying to stop himself from crying. “I love you, darling.”

“Love you,” Finn says softly. “I can move my feet.” He starts to cry again. 

“It’s just your shoulder,” Kurt explains. “I don’t know exactly what about it. I guess they’ll tell me later. It’s just your shoulder.”

“Don’t let them fix it. Don’t let them fix it, Kurt,” Finn pleads. “Please. Please don’t let them.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain,” Kurt whispers. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Finn.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Kurt. I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Shh. It’s okay, darling,” Kurt says, and he can feel tears running down his own cheeks. “It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

“I’m so tired,” Finn says. “I said no, but there was a needle.”

“I know. I know,” Kurt says quietly. “They shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”

“Can I sleep more?”

“Of course you can,” Kurt says, and when he finishes the sentence, he realizes he’s sobbing through it, crying all over Finn, but he doesn’t know how to stop. “We’ll be right here, darling. Right here.”

“Sorry I didn’t do a good enough job,” Finn starts to say, but then his voice trails off before he can explain what job he thinks he didn’t do well enough, and it’s clear he’s fallen back asleep.

Kurt can hear himself crying more than being actually aware of it, and then he feels Noah’s arm wrap around him. He can hear Noah talking to someone, but he can’t tell what they’re saying, not while he’s still crying. He isn’t sure how long passes before Noah hands him some kind of pill and a bottle of water, but once he takes it, Noah eases him back down beside Finn, and Kurt closes his eyes. He keeps sobbing against Finn, and Noah keeps rubbing his back, and Kurt vaguely remembers there’s a reason he should stay awake, but finally sleep just sounds better, regardless.

 

After Kurt falls asleep, Noah asks Rachel to leave, with a mostly sincere promise to call her if anything important happens. Once she’s gone, Syd offers to go find them some food, and Noah nods his agreement. He knows it could take her awhile to find it, or maybe not; he doesn’t know where they are, really. But eventually, Kurt and Finn will both wake up, and everyone’s going to be hungry. 

Noah checks the curtain again and paces in the room, checking the time and trying to decide if a third Xanax is in his future or not. Mostly he just watches Kurt and Finn, because even Hannah comes in a pale second in importance to the two people sleeping in front of him. He pulls the chair closer to the bed and puts his hand over Kurt’s where it’s resting on Finn’s upper arm, and waits. Syd will be back with food, and Burt and Carole will arrive sooner or later. 

It turns out to be sooner rather than later, Burt and Carole hurrying into the room. Carole’s in a state of disarray and looks like she’s been crying for the better part of the evening. Burt looks confused when he sees Kurt and Finn lying on the bed, and Carole visibly startled by the scene in front of her.

“What’s going on here?” Burt asks. “I really need somebody to bring me up to speed on what happened.”

“Kurt sort of… went hysterical,” Noah explains first. “They gave him some Valium.” He sighs and rubs his hand across his face. “You might as well sit down. What do you want to know first?”

“What happened to him? I caught part of the replay of the hit, but it looked like that guy from the Pats was gunning for him!” Burt says, shaking his head. “And I can’t figure out why.”

“He was,” Noah says simply. “It was pretty obvious.”

“Where’s Rachel?” Carole asks, moving to Finn’s other side and moving her hands anxiously, like she wants to grab him but realizes she’s on the injured side. “Why isn’t she here? She’s his wife, she should be here!”

“I sent her to get some sleep,” Noah answers, because that sounds responsible. “She went to rest at a hotel.”

“Why would some linebacker from the Pats be gunning for Finn in a preseason game?” Burt demands. “And it looked like that Brisket kid just stepped right out of the way! Does this guy from the Pats have a reputation I don’t know about?”

Noah thinks carefully before he responds. “Brisket’s just a kid,” he finally says. “Only his second NFL game.” It’s true, it is only Brisket’s second game, but that’s not the reason Brisket moved. There are things Noah can’t even allude to, though, so ‘second game’ is as much explanation as he can give. “As for the Pats, hell. Who knows why the AFC does anything? Maybe Abner thought it was a Super Bowl preview and didn’t like the Pats’ chances if Finn kept playing all season?” 

“I heard he had a hell of a first half,” Burt say proudly. 

“Burt!” Carole says, finally sinking into a chair. “Focus, please.”

“Have you talked to the doctors yet? They say if it’s broken or what?” Burt says.

“They tried to get Rachel to sign some sort of surgery consent form,” Noah says, “but Finn flipped out. She wasn’t really sure why. Syd went through the forms and basically it’s a separated shoulder. I’ve read a little online but I’m guessing the orthopedist will come back in the morning.”

“Are you going to take Kurt back to a hotel so he can get some decent rest?” Burt asks.

“Syd’ll be back with food in a bit. We’ll see what he wants to do after he eats. There’s a Holiday Inn over—” Noah frowns. “I have no idea what direction. East of here about a block. I made a reservation for you already.”

“Oh, is that where Rachel is?”

“Hmm?” Noah looks at Carole blankly, then shrugs. “No idea, actually, the Bears arranged her hotel.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of them. Wasn’t that nice of them, Burt?”

“Yeah, sounds like the team’s taking real good care of everybody,” Burt says. “So, Rachel’ll come back in the morning to go over everything with the orthopedist?”

“No,” Noah says slowly. “Kurt has medical power of attorney. If Finn’s not lucid enough to decide for himself, which he might be by the morning.”

“Why would Kurt decide?” Carole asks. “Rachel’s his wife. Are you sure about that, Noah?”

“That’s how the paperwork has it,” Syd says from behind Burt and Carole. “Hi, Mr. Hummel. Ms. Hudson-Hummel. Noah, I ended up at a Whole Foods and got a bit of everything from the hot bar, plus soup for Finn.”

“Awesome,” Noah says gratefully, pulling the table out for Syd to unload the containers and plates on. “You’re the best, Syd.”

Syd grins. “Yeah, I know.”

“Should Finn be eating if he’s going to have surgery?” Carole asks. “And I still don’t understand why the paperwork has Kurt in charge and not Rachel.”

“Save me some of that chicken?” Syd says to Noah, and after Noah nods, Syd smiles at Carole. “Come on out in the hall really quickly and I’ll explain it.”

“Oh, okay,” Carole says, standing up and looking startled, but she follows Syd out. 

Noah fixes himself a plate and starts to eat, looking back at Burt. “Syd and I could be wrong,” he says quietly, “but I don’t think he’s going to play again.”

“It’s too early to tell that, though,” Burt argues. “They might do that surgery, and come next season, he’s fine.”

“He’s been pretty insistent that he doesn’t want surgery,” Noah says. “Even with surgery, it’s his shoulder, and the full rehab rate isn’t that great for the severity of his injury.”

“Of course he’ll want the surgery. He’s just— he’s upset or confused or something right now,” Burt says. “And then it’ll be important that we stay positive about it. Last thing he needs on top of everything out is finding out he can’t play anymore.”

Noah barely resists the urge to snort. Yeah, Finn was always so excited about playing. Everyone pulled and pushed him into the draft, and Burt and Carole told him they couldn’t help with any of his grad school if he didn’t go into the draft. Noah doesn’t know their financial details, but he knows that the claim of not being able to help has to be bogus. For starters, they’ve never restricted the amount Kurt puts on the credit card that Burt pays for, and for another thing, they paid all of their travel costs through four years of undergrad, back and forth, New York to Wisconsin or Wisconsin to New York.

Yeah, from everything Noah heard, Finn’ll be throwing a party if they’ll just say he can’t play anymore, no matter what. 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out in the morning,” Noah says matter-of-factly. “But I’m going to let him eat soup tonight, because he probably hasn’t eaten in about twelve hours, and there’s nothing wrong with his digestive system.”

“So why Kurt?” Burt asks. “I love my son, don’t get me wrong, but Finn’s got a wife.”

Noah levels a look at Burt that he hopes is amused. “Would you want a vegan making your medical decisions?”

Burt chuckles. “No, I guess not.”

“Why don’t you take Carole to the hotel?” Noah suggests. “Get some rest, check on Audrey, and everyone can reconvene in the morning.” Or not, if Noah and Kurt have their way, but by the morning, everyone will be rested and ready to fight, at least.

“Yeah, doesn’t look like there’s anything else we can do here tonight,” Burt says. “You’ll get Kurt into a real bed, though?”

“I’ll make sure he gets some rest,” Noah says firmly. “Might even see you in the lobby in the morning.” Probably not, unless Burt and Carole get up a lot earlier than Noah thinks they will.

“Okay. Let me know if anything changes, alright?”

“Yeah, we will,” Noah agrees.

Burt stands, offering Noah his hand to shake, then he walks out of the hospital room, closing the door behind himself quietly. Noah exhales and then shakes Kurt a little. “Food, blue eyes.”

“Mmmph.” Kurt turns towards Noah, and Noah runs a finger down his nose, which has the desired effect. “Fine. I’m awake,” Kurt says with a yawn, not really looking around him as he lets Noah sit him in a chair in front of the food. 

“Sure you are,” Noah agrees, then turns to Finn. “Hey, asshole, wake up and eat some soup.”

Finn scrunches up his face. Without opening his eyes, he mumbles, “Get off my arm, asshole. You’re heavy. It hurts.”

Noah shakes his head and runs his hand through Finn’s hair gently. “Yeah, I know,” he says softly, reaching for the control to make the top half of the bed tilt up. “I know it hurts.”

“Puck?” Finn asks, opening his eyes and looking around the room, confused. “What’s… There was a… I think I got hurt.”

“Yeah,” Noah confirms. “You did. But hey, Kurt and I are here, and Syd brought you soup, so you’d probably better eat it.”

“Syd?” Finn echoes. “Syd’s here?” He tries to sit up more and grimaces, making a sharp sound of pain. “Shit. It’s bad. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, darling,” Kurt says, standing up. “We’ll just use the bed to sit you up, okay?”

“Syd’s here, she’ll be back in a few minutes because she didn’t want me to eat all of the chicken.” Noah pauses. “Your mom and Burt are here, but I sent them to a hotel. And, well.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Don’t want her to worry,” Finn says. “She worries about me.”

They get the bed farther up, enough that Noah thinks Finn can probably eat the soup, and then Kurt sighs. “Rachel’s here, too, darling.”

“Yeah,” Finn says dully. “Yeah, I remember that. She didn’t—” He shakes his head. “She’s not allowed to sign the papers for stuff. I don’t know if Syd told you, but if something happens to me—”

“Syd brought the papers,” Kurt interrupts Finn. “We’ll talk about everything in the morning, I suppose. Or has the doctor been by?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, no doctor. It is Saturday night.”

“Did they say if…” Finn begins, but his words trail off and he looks away. 

“If what?” Kurt asks softly.

“If I’ll be able to play,” Finn finishes. He looks hopeful, like he did just before Christmas when they were in second grade, convinced he was going to see Santa coming in the house or something. 

“I don’t think they’ll speculate on that for a while,” Kurt says, exchanging a glance with Noah. “There wasn’t anything written down.”

“No, there wasn’t,” Noah agrees, then looks at Finn. “Look, Burt’s all ‘we need to stay positive’ and shit but Syd and I read some stuff. Online and not specific, but.” He shakes his head slowly. 

“But?” Finn asks. 

“Hey, I have to maintain plausible deniability here,” Noah jokes, “but look at me, darling.” He shakes his head again, locking his eyes with Finn.

Finn’s chin drops to his chest, his right hand coming up to cover his face, and after a moment, his good shoulder curls in and he starts to shake. He doesn’t make any sound, but Noah recognizes that Finn is crying. Noah puts his hand on Finn’s shoulder, Kurt’s resting beside it a few seconds later, and Noah squeezes. 

“We know,” Noah says quietly. “We know.”

“Everything’s going to work out, darling,” Kurt says. “Let’s just eat some soup and maybe they’ll take you to a room that’s not in the emergency room or something.”

Finn sniffles and nods, wiping his eyes with his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, soup sounds good.”

Kurt picks up the soup and opens it, sniffing. “It smells spicy, darling.” Noah opens a spoon, discarding the plastic wrapper, and starts to hand it to Finn, but Kurt intercepts it. “You two can posture over soup tomorrow.”

Noah snickers and sits at the foot of the bed with his plate while Kurt feeds Finn. He knows he’s not going to get much sleep that night, and probably not for a few nights. He knows they’re going to end up arguing with Rachel and Burt and Carole, possibly all at the same time. He knows this doesn’t _fix_ things, not some things. But for a little while, it’s just the three of them, eating dinner while they’re sitting on a bed, and for that little while, it’s enough.


End file.
